Dawn Of Dumbledore
by Apocalypticat
Summary: Albus Dumbledore has to be the most mysterious character of the series. What happened to make him like that? Where does Fawkes come in? Follow him from his earliest years to the end of his time at Hogwarts if all goes to plan!
1. Dribbling Little Humans

****

A/N: Well, after browsing at length, I have to say I was rather disappointed in the amount of young Dumbledore fics there were. There was nothing for it - I decided to try and write my own. Let me know what you think! I shall be following the lexicon timeline…hopefully.

March, 1844

Splitting the pitch sky with harsh white lightning, the spring storm swept its way across the country, drenching England in a deluge of rain. The fury of nature thundered in the distance, seeming to rebel against the small creatures that swarmed in the cities, who had dared to declare themselves masters of the land. A few miles from where Albus Dumbledore was born, lightning struck a tree, extinguishing its life in fire and awesome electricity. Mighty oaks submitted to the fierce driving of the wind, as it howled through the roads like a pack of wolves.

A carriage hurtled through the droves of pouring rain, wheels clattering on the street cobbles. A few observers, who were forced to leap out of the way to escape its reckless path, were able to see the foaming mouths of the thestrals and the family crest emblazoned on the side of the vehicle before it sped out of sight, swerving down the narrow streets.

As thunder crashed in the distance and the rain beat down with renewed force, the carriage halted abruptly in front of a large building and a tall, thin man sprang out. His long light brown hair and wisp of a beard were immediately soaked but he seemed oblivious to this as he bounded up the stairs to the entrance and flung the large double-doors open.

The reception area was, as always, crowded with witches and wizards with various ailments but the man only seemed to see the Welcome Witch at the desk and nearly knocked over an old woman (who was suffering from some sort of jinx that had fixed one leg firmly to the other) on his way there. He ignored the queue and pushed his way forwards, causing many of those who were queuing to mutter and sigh.

The Welcome Witch glared at him. "Sir, if you would join the queue-"

"Where is my wife!" snapped the man, his sharp aristocratic features taut with worry.

"The queue-" began the witch again but the man wasn't having any of it.

"Woman, my wife is having my children! I _demand _to know where she is!"

The Welcome Witch sighed and pulled out a roll of parchment with a list of names on from under the desk. "Name?"

"Dumbledore. Ulfin Dumbledore."

"The Willow Ward. Third floor."

Without another word, the man swept towards the staircase, dark cloak billowing behind him. An unfortunate house-elf was shoved out the way as Ulfin Dumbledore jumped up the stairs three at a time, cursing something about muggle toll-gates.

The doors of the Willow Ward crashed open and Ulfin frantically ranged around, looking for his wife. His eyes found a pale, tired-looking woman with long auburn hair and soft brown eyes smiling at him weakly from a bed in the corner. A grim-faced Healer stood next to her, drawing his wand in the air over the length of her body, muttering some sort of diagnostic spell.

In three strides, Ulfin was kissing his wife tenderly and looking wonderingly at the two bundles in her lap. Maria Dumbledore saw where her husband was looking and her weak smile grew broader.

"You have two sons, darling."

Ulfin stood up, chest expanding with pride as he looked down at his children. Two sons! It was even more than he had hoped for. Already, Ulfin could see two strapping lads standing before him, identical copies of their father, both capable of taking care of the Dumbledore estate.

He beamed at his wife, only to see the glint of sadness in her eyes. He looked questioningly at the Healer, who made a silent gesture to follow him to the other end of the room. Ulfin nodded in a way that meant '_in a minute' _and settled himself down on the chair beside the bed.

"We shall have to think of some fine names for them," he said, once again gazing at the two precious bundles in his wife's lap. Both children were asleep, apparently as exhausted by the labour as their mother.

"I've always liked the name Brian," whispered Maria, lightly stroking one child's cheek with her finger.

Ulfin made a little noise that meant that he thought his sons were above such a 'common' name as Brian.

"A middle name, perhaps?" said his wife tentatively.

"Perhaps," grunted Ulfin. "Personally, the name Egbert has always-"

"No, Ulfin," said Maria firmly. "I hate the name Egbert."

"Nothing wrong with it! It was my father's name, in fact."

"Yet another reason not call anyone Egbert," muttered Maria, rolling her eyes.

Ulfin pretended not to hear and rose to his feet, suggesting that his wife think about it whilst he talked to the Healer. Once Ulfin and the Healer were out of hearing distance of Maria, the Healer's grim expression returned.

"I'm afraid it was a hard labour, sir. A third, male infant did not survive."

Ulfin took the news with a slight tightening of the jaw; the death of newborns was not uncommon but the wonderful concept of nearly producing _three _sons was a hard one to hear and then immediately let go of. He comforted himself with again the vision of two powerful young men striding confidently through life, reminding all whom they met of the nobility of the Dumbledore family. They would have his hair and build, perhaps with Maria's eyes. Both would enter respectable professions in the Ministry and marry equally respectable women, who would bear them each two sons, who would…

He returned to his wife, to discuss names, not even mentioning that third child who had not survived. He did not notice the drenched, moody-looking phoenix that sat on the window sill outside, staring intently at the infants.

An hour later, Ulfin sighed and stood up, brandishing a finger at nearest son.

"Right. This one shall be called…" Ulfin took a deep breath. "…Albus Egbert Eric Jonathan Michael David Henry Galahad Edward Rupert Romulus Ulfin Timothy Marcus Sebastian Stuart Philip Jeremy William Percival Wulferic Brian Dumbledore."

Maria blinked at him.

"That encompasses all the possible names that both you and I like," said Ulfin in explanation. "That means that he should have least one name he himself likes and-"

His wife looked incredulously at him. "Ulfin, don't be ridiculous! How on earth is he supposed to even learn his own name? _I _won't remember it, for Merlin's sake!"

"Well, I suppose he…" Ulfin's voice drifted away.

Maria held up three fingers. "_Three _middle names and no more, Ulfin."

Ulfin looked scandalised. "_Three? _Only _three? _My dear, nobody in the Dumbledore family has ever had less than-"

"I don't care, Ulfin. I think it's silly to call a child all that."

"My father had nineteen middle names!" said her husband indignantly. "And he was proud of every one of them!"

"Yes, and I never did learn his full name! Three and no more. I personally liked the last three you listed."

"Percival… Wulferic… and Brian?"

Maria nodded.

"Three?"

"Yes."

"But… Egbert…"

"Ulfin, _no."_

Ulfin pouted and Maria suppressed a smile. She was not quite the submissive wife Ulfin had expected. "And the other?" she prompted.

"Thomas Edward Henry Sebastian Rupert…"

"Ulfin."

"Fine!" Ulfin threw up his hands. "Thomas Edward Henry Sebastian Dumbledore, then." He shot a nasty look at his wife. "If you had your way, they would be called things like.." He wrinkled his nose. "'Max' and… 'Dick.'"

"Now there's an idea…"

The couple dropped into friendly banter, neither noticing the phoenix still perched outside in the rain.

Fawkes was not a happy bird. He had flown for miles through the rain and the wind, with no clear idea as to where he was going or where he was and all the time becoming more and more exhausted and fed up. Now he was crouched in the meagre shelter of some unnecessarily decorative stonework over the window, dripping and rather cold. He was thoroughly annoyed about it.

Since entering his phoenix teens, things seemed to have gone rather rapidly downhill for Fawkes. Firstly, there was the fact that he had been thrown out of the family nest. Secondly, there was the even more awful idea that he was expected to fly out and… _bond _with some dribbling little human. What's more, he was supposed to spend _years _with said dribbling little human until it became a dribbling old man. He was also meant to just _instinctively _know which dribbling little human he had to bond with, even though they were all little and all dribbling and all dreadfully human. It was definitely not fair.

Looking at the two examples in the room beyond the window, he couldn't help but get a feeling of impending doom. They looked all right whilst they were asleep but Merlin knew what would happen when they woke up.

Fawkes knew that phoenix tradition demanded that he guide the afore-mentioned dribbling little human and therefore shape history but nobody had actually told him how to go about accomplishing this. The whole idea seemed stupid.

_Blasted little imps, _thought Fawkes irritably as he stared at the sleeping children. They would both grow up into dratted little brats, who would roll around in the dirt and eat their own snot and generally be so disgusting that Fawkes wouldn't want to touch them with the tip of his tail-feathers.

Misgivings, however, did not help him in deciding what to do next. So it was that, mainly out of confusion, Fawkes stayed and watched the babies inside the ward. It was on a hopeless kind of whim that he followed the thestral-drawn carriage three days later when it bore the Dumbledore children home.

****

A/N: Hope you like my Fawkes. Review!


	2. Black Fire

The Dumbledore estate was comprised of several acres and a large country mansion that sprawled over the land like some sort of fungus. It was on the outskirts of an all-wizarding village that was, to Fawkes' dismay, suffering from some sort of baby boom - dribbling little humans were everywhere.

Although not yet an expert on humans, Fawkes could tell that the Dumbledore family were none too short of Galleons. The floors of the mansion were either of marble or highly polished wood and the walls were hung with pictures and tapestries. Several pointless statues of heroic-looking wizards waving their wands in the air were scattered over the grounds (Fawkes made a point of defecating on all of them upon arrival) and there were, in Fawkes' opinion, an alarming number of house-elves.

There were also a number of human servants, one of whom was assigned to look after the Dumbledore children. Fawkes determined them to be a dumpy female of the species, who attempted to sing lullabies over the relentless screaming and pushed the children in a pram around the grounds whilst whistling an annoying tune that made Fawkes want to defecate over her, too.

It was whilst said dumpy human female was asleep on a bench outside with the pram nearby that Fawkes got his first proper look at the brothers.

He sailed down from the nearby oak tree and landed on the pram handle. Both infants were, thankfully, asleep, so he did not have to listen to any of their accursed screaming.

"So… am I going to have to waste my precious time with one of you two brats?" he muttered, eyeing them both suspiciously.

To Fawkes' eyes, both children looked pretty much the same. Both were small, pink and utterly unimpressive. They both had tiny, clammy little hands that seemed permanently clenched and eyes that seemed far too large in proportion to their heads. Perhaps Albus had a greater amount of down on his head and maybe Thomas was a smidgeon paler in skin tone but there really didn't seem to be a great amount of difference. Fawkes felt no amazing, magnetic pull towards either brother, no deep instinct rung any bells in his head, no heavenly group of angels descended from the sky to sing either brother's name in any meaningful chorus - it didn't seem as though either of them was the one he was meant to stay with.

Just as Fawkes was about to take off and resume his search elsewhere, one child stirred. A pair of sapphire eyes opened and looked directly at Fawkes. The baby's small brow wrinkled. It appeared unable to decide whether to cry or gurgle.

"You have pretty eyes, kid," said Fawkes in a bored voice. "But that's the only thing going for you."

Thomas moved his head and opened his eyes as well. They were identical in colour and they, too, soon found the large golden bird perched over him. His mouth opened and drool ran down his chin.

"Disgusting!" said the phoenix, having had his worst fear - dribble - realised.

Thomas suddenly let out a piercing wail that made Fawkes bush out his feathers and take off suddenly, startled. Albus joined in, howling as well, so that the nurse woke up in time to see a golden bird fly up away into the trees.

She rushed over to the pram and made hushing noises. "Oh - oh - don't worry, Nurse won't let that nasty bird hurt you, darlings-"

"This 'nasty bird' is _so _going to poop on Nurse," said a voice in the background that the Nurse merely heard as squawking noises.

She turned around and waved her hands in the direction of the trees. "Shoo! Shoo!"

"Charming!" snapped Fawkes, before flying off to explore the village. Surely somewhere in this baby-infested village would be a child that was less disgusting than the rest.

Unfortunately, over the next few months, Fawkes discovered that there seemed to be a multitude of children even worse than the Dumbledore brothers. The Malfoy boy was simply dreadful - he spent the whole time screaming and throwing up. The Snape boy on the other side of the village was pale and sickly and the Abercrombie girl was repulsive, burping constantly. All infant humans seemed to do was scream, throw up, burp, poop and sleep.

But then, Fawkes didn't know much about humans. Perhaps that was all they _ever_ did?

Fed up, Fawkes decided to give up for a while and settled in a tree in the Dumbledore grounds. Whilst this meant that he had some sort of shelter from rain and didn't have to forage far in order to find food, it also meant that he was forced to watch the Dumbledore brothers become older, noisier and even more revolting.

From what Fawkes gathered, or cared, Mr Dumbledore seemed to spend most of his life away at the Ministry or riding around in a carriage visiting people. Mrs Dumbledore, on the other hand, sat at home and read, or played with her children. It was obvious to anyone that Mrs Dumbledore actually rather bored of her 'stately lady' existence - otherwise, as Fawkes thought, she would not have wanted to spend any time at all with the demonic dribbling duo.

Thus Fawkes had to observe such inanities as Albus's first word ("Dad," to the joy of his father), Thomas's first steps (that came some time before Albus's; Thomas seemed a little more physically enthusiastic), Albus's curious attempt to copy a bird in eating a worm (something which Fawkes didn't understand anyone's objection to) and Thomas's joy in throwing food at his father (something which Fawkes thoroughly understood). It was not until the Dumbledore brothers were two and Albus had stopped pronouncing Dumbledore as "Dubbledore" that anything happened that caught Fawkes' attention.

He was watching the brothers play in their nursery under the supervision of Nurse one sunny summer afternoon, from his position in a tree outside the open window. Nurse was dozing in a rocking chair whilst Albus and Thomas played with a miniature set of Gobstones. Neither brother was old enough to understand the real game but both seemed greatly amused whenever one of the Gobstones squirted water at them; Thomas kept trying to drink the water and spitting it out and Albus kept giggling.

Nurse eventually stood up from her chair and made to leave the room. She turned and smiled at them before speaking to them in a baby-voice.

"I just have to go to the toilet, my dears. You stay here and play nicely. You'll be all right without Nurse, won't you?"

Thomas and Albus, both of whom had now sprouted thick auburn, wavy hair, nodded - Albus so violently that it looked as though he would hit his head on the floor. Nurse left and Fawkes saw Thomas drop the Gobstone he was holding.

Albus lost interest in the Gobstones and began putting wooden blocks on top of one another. "…Build a big tower…" he murmured. "Up to the sky…"

Thomas's head turned to look at his brother and Fawkes got a perfect view of the little boys face. His plumage puffed out and he nearly fell off his perch.

The expression on Thomas's face was one beyond his years - and what's more, a _horrible _one beyond his years. He was staring at the oblivious Albus with a look of such utter loathing and hatred that Fawkes was surprised that Albus had not crumbled to dust. Thomas's eyes darkened, until it seemed as though anyone gazing into his eyes would be staring into infinite night.

"Albus," he said suddenly.

"Yeh?" Albus looked up and froze, transfixed by Thomas's expression.

He got to his feet, as did Thomas. There was an ominous silence and Albus began to back away towards the doorway, eyes wide and face pale. Fawkes watched the scene uneasily.

"Albus, I think I'm going to kill you."

Albus moved just in time - a ball of black fire destroyed the patch of floor where he had been standing - a ball of black fire thrown by a two-year-old who was not even three feet tall.

Fawkes was immobile with disbelief as he watched Thomas snarl with fury and Albus flee through the doorway - and then he plummeted off his branch to squeeze through the window. Thomas had meanwhile bounded towards the doorway and Fawkes followed.

Albus was running full tilt down the hallway, seemingly too frightened to even scream. Thomas, eyes narrowed, sent another dark orb of black fire flying after him. It destroyed a table bearing a vase of flowers and missed Albus by inches - but the force of it flung him off his feet so that the little boy went skidding in a heap to the end of the hallway.

Thomas giggled in a way that frightened the phoenix and then raised his hand to aim another sizzling dark ball at Albus, who was whimpering with his hands over his head. Fawkes flew forward, not really knowing what he was going to do - but it was too late, black fire was hurtling towards the boy faster than he could fly.

"No - don't!" cried Albus.

There was a sound like a gong, as if the black orb had hit something solid and invisible around Albus - and then, suddenly, a burst of white flame had soared through the air to hit Thomas.

Thomas screamed and ran down the hallway towards Albus, blazing with white fire, as his flesh blackened and cracked. Albus let out a cry and threw himself backwards.

"I'll kill you, Albus! I will!" shrieked the boy madly, a pair of black eyes in a white inferno. "You can't kill me that easily-"

There was one last scream before the fire utterly consumed him and where Thomas had been, there was only a pile of black ashes, smoking slightly. Fawkes fled the house and spent the night hunched up under his wings.

He had been wrong, that was for sure. Thomas had been damned unusual and Albus was equally as abnormal.

Nurse returned to find Albus crying hysterically in a corner, completely unresponsive to any hushing, a pile of mysterious ashes that seemed to have no source and Thomas missing. The alarm was raised and there was an extensive search of the village and the surrounding area, but Thomas was never found and Ulfin Dumbledore was at last forced to abandon the image of two identical young lads working in the Ministry. Albus was frightened and miserable for several weeks, after which his young mind seemed to erase the traumatic memory and he returned to normal, albeit minus a brother. As Thomas's disappearance had seemingly affected him so badly, his parents resolved never to speak of him in front of Albus again and eventually Albus ceased to have any memories of his brother.

Fawkes, however, did not forget, and resolved to watch Albus more closely and also more warily.

A/N: Soooooo… what do you think? And pssst that isn't the last we'll see of Thomas!


	3. Real Wizard

**A/N: Time for Albus's POV, I think. Hope you like it!**

At five years old, Albus Dumbledore was a precocious child. This, perhaps, was the reason he was to be found in the library curled up in an armchair with a small, brightly illustrated children's book in front of him one Sunday afternoon.

He was a small, gangly child with large blue eyes and shaggy auburn hair that reached his shoulders. He was slightly thinner and smaller than was normal and one noticeable feature emphasised by the fact he disliked wearing shoes inside was his abnormally large feet. These were stuck out in front of him, not reaching the floor and the library was silent except for the whisperings of his childish voice.

"Then he… went into the… palace…" intoned Albus softly, following the text with his finger and pausing to look at the brightly coloured picture of Merlin on the opposite page. He thought that Merlin looked old and wise and awesome, and turned the page to look at the big picture of the dragon spewing fire at a tower.

"Albus," came his father's voice from the doorway.

Albus looked up and grinned at his father, who remained standing in the doorway, looking around the library as though it was dangerous foreign territory. Ulfin had been home for several days but Albus was always grateful to see him - Father wasn't home very often.

"Don't you want to go outside and play?" asked his father.

"No, Father, I'm reading," said Albus. "It's a book about Merlin," he added as an afterthought.

"Yes…" His father sighed. "Don't you want to go and play with some other little boys?"

Albus blinked. The possibility of other little boys had never been mentioned before.

"Who?" he demanded, book momentarily forgotten.

"Well, I was thinking that perhaps Nurse could take you to the park - there are lots of other little boys there."

"Yes, but who?"

"Well…" Ulfin waved a hand vaguely. "You might meet your cousin Septimus Malfoy…"

"I didn't know I had a cousin!" said Albus indignantly. Even at his tender age, he felt that it was something one should know.

"Uh-" Ulfin stepped hesitantly into the room. "Second cousin, actually - you have lots of cousins, Albus."

"Oh," said Albus blankly.

"Albus?"

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow, a tutor will be coming - Professor Wood - to teach you letters and numbers."

"I already know how to read!"

"Yes, I know," said Ulfin shortly.

"And I can count up to thirty."

"Yes, well… Be polite to Professor Wood - he will be teaching you every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday from one till three. Nurse will tell you when you need to go." There was a pause. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the park?"

"Yes, Father. I'm okay here."

Ulfin swept out without another word and Albus got the impression that he'd done something wrong, but didn't know what and so dismissed it from his mind. Before he could return to his book, however, there was a crack and a house-elf appeared next to his chair.

"Would young Master Dumbledore like something to eat?" squeaked the elf, bulbous green eyes fixed on him.

"No thank you. I don't want dinner yet," said Albus quietly. He was glad Father had gone - Father didn't like Albus saying thank you to the house-elves, for some unknown reason. However, Albus had always thought that he should, as Mother had always been very firm about saying please and thank you. Mother liked it when Albus said thank you to the house-elves; she'd said that it made him sound like a 'gentleman.'

"Not dinner, young Master," chirruped the elf. "Moopy was thinking young Master would like some sweets!"

"Sweets?" repeated Albus, lowering his book again. The offer of this forbidden luxury was certainly tempting. Neither Mother nor Father liked Albus eating sweets; Mother said that it would rot his teeth and Father said only babies ate sweets.

"Yes, sir! Moopy has some Sherbet Lemons, young master!"

The elf was suddenly holding a paper bag. Albus stared at it.

"What are Sherbet Lemons?"

"Muggle sweets, sir!"

Muggle sweets were even more forbidden than wizard sweets. Albus had had some problems with the concept of a muggle - the fact he would one day be able to do magic was the given, and the idea of some people in the world never being able to do magic came as quite a shock to him.

Tentatively, he reached into the back and grabbed one of the sweets, before shoving it in his mouth. A wonderful taste burst on the tip of his tongue, and before Albus knew what had happened, he had eaten five of them in a row. The house-elf insisted on giving Albus the rest of the bag before disappearing with a pop.

Albus went up to his room to stow the bag away in a safe hiding place. Apart from the library, his room was his favourite in the house. It was painted blue and dominated by a four-poster bed with dark blue hangings that completely dwarfed Albus when he was in it. There was a brightly-painted toy box, containing such wonderful things as miniature flying broomsticks and a toy wand, a chest of drawers and a lamp decorated with moving dragons. A sign also decorated with dragons hung on the door, with the name 'Albus' written in big blue letters on it.

He hid the bag in his chest of drawers before going downstairs to finish his book but he never reached the library as the doorbell rung. He halted on the landing, waiting to see the butler answer the door and see who it was. Little was Albus to know that the butler was otherwise engaged in a broom closet with Nurse. As the doorbell rang again, Albus decided that he'd be like a grown-up and answer the door. Perhaps Father would be pleased with him.

Albus had some problems reaching the door-handle but he finally managed to open the door to see an unknown man standing on the doorstep, who looked quite taken aback to be confronted by a five-year-old.

"Good afternoon," said Albus in what he thought was a grown-up sort of way. He noticed that the man had sandy hair and brown eyes and wore robes which weren't as nice as Father's.

"Hello," said the man, recovering and smiling kindly down at him. "I'm Marcus Lupin. And who would you be?" He held out a hand for Albus to shake.

"I'm Albus Dumbledore," he said solemnly, shaking Mr Lupin's hand.

The sight was quite strange: a worn-looking man in his thirties shaking the hand of a serious-faced five-year-old with wild hair.

"Is your mother or father there?" asked the nice Mr Lupin.

Albus nodded. "I'll go and get Father for you," he said.

He left Mr Lupin at the door to search for Father. Father was in the drawing room, smoking a cigar. He had to tug at Father's robes to get his attention.

"Father, there's a man at the door," said Albus, chest swelling slightly: Father would be pleased that he'd answered the door.

"Why didn't the butler get it?" snapped Father. He didn't seem very pleased - in contrast, he seemed quite irritated.

"He wasn't there," explained Albus. "It's Mr-"

But Father swept out of the room before Albus could say anything more. He followed and stood at the end of the hallway listening - but he couldn't hear what Father said to Mr Lupin - except that the few words exchanged were short and curt. A few moments later, the door closed and Father strode back into the drawing room. Albus wanted to ask what Mr Lupin had wanted but the annoyed expression on Father's face scared him a bit.

At dinner, Mother and Father were talking about Mr Lupin. Dinner was dragon steak - Albus didn't like the look of it at all and thought that it tasted horrible but whenever he hesitated, Mother glared at him. He was choking it down and so wasn't even listening to the conversation until Mr Lupin was mentioned.

"…Moved in over near where the Malfoys are," said Mother. "Persephone is _not _pleased."

"Hmph," snorted Father. "I knew that already. A…" He paused and made a face as though saying a crude word. "…_Mr Lupin _arrived on the doorstep this afternoon."

"Oh, really?" said Mother. "Persephone told me that they have a little boy - about Albus's age-"

"Well, that's one boy Albus will _not _be playing with." He looked suddenly at Albus. "Hear that, Albus? Don't you go near any boys called Lupin."

Albus opened his mouth to ask why but Mother told him to keep his mouth closed when chewing his food.

"Does he work?" she asked. "Persephone says that they don't seem to be terribly well off-"

"Yes," said Father in distaste. "As an Auror." He made another expression of disgust. "Useless layabouts, every single one of them, if you ask me-"

"I wouldn't know what to say if he came to the door again," sniffed Mother. "Understandably, we don't want to associate with _that _family - but I can hardly slam the door in his face-"

Father waved his fork about dismissively. "Just inform him that we're not interested and if he doesn't go away, give him a good hex. We don't want to have anything to do with people like that."

"Why?" asked Albus, who had not understood everything that had been said but had caught the unmistakeable tone of it and who had thought that Mr Lupin had seemed nice.

Father sighed and leant over to put a hand on Albus's shoulder. "Listen to me carefully, Albus. Some wizards are better than others and…"

"Why?" asked Albus confusedly.

"Well - Albus - you wouldn't want to be a muggle, would you?"

"Oh no!" said Albus vehemently, thinking how awful it would be not to be able to do any magic ever.

"Well, some wizards, like… Mr Lupin, aren't really proper wizards."

"Oh. Why not?" asked Albus, who had not noticed anything abnormal about Mr Lupin at all.

"Because they're part Muggle and you can't trust Muggles."

Albus blinked. Did that mean that Mr Lupin couldn't do very much magic? "Why can't you trust Muggles, Father?"

"Because," said Father darkly, "Muggles once tried to kill all wizards."

"Really?" Albus dropped his fork in surprise.

"Oh yes, Albus. Which means that you should never trust mudbloods. You're better than them, Albus; you're a _real_ wizard."

Albus heard a note of pride in his Father's voice on the phrase 'real wizard' and he was suddenly convinced that being a real wizard was a very wonderful thing indeed. "What are mudbloods?"

"They're wizards, like Mr Lupin, who are part Muggle. They're mudbloods because they have filthy blood - mud in their blood, Albus. That's why I don't want you going near anybody called Lupin or any other mudbloods."

"Oh, okay," said Albus, wondering whether Mr Lupin had just been pretending to be nice and was actually nasty.

He could be proud of being a 'real wizard.'

A/N: Aww, poor Albus. He doesn't yet know the meaning of the word 'indoctrination'…


	4. Professor Wood

A/N: Reviewers! W00t!

Maggie - Thanks, first reviewer! Though… I hope you know that that wasn't Aberforth… He'll arrive later on.

AnnaK - awww, thanks! I feel super encouraged now!

These people deserve medals, they really do.

The living room was the most important room in the house and seemed to have been designed specifically to impress. Not only was the room vast (to Albus, at least) with a high ceiling that curved to an apex right above the middle of the room, but the pictures and tapestries in here were even more eye-catching and beautiful than the rest. There was an oil painting of a woman in dress robes, who sat primly in an armchair with an austere expression on her face, another painting depicting a group of wizards at a dining table, which was not as impressive as it was intended to be due to the fact that the wizards kept on getting drunk and staggering through the rest of the house's paintings singing bawdy songs and a tapestry showing a unicorn standing above a lake with a swan on it. The furniture was a rich mahogany that made Albus feel as though he shouldn't even be going near it and there was a large wolf-skin rug, the fangs of which frightened him. Above the mantelpiece there was a model of the family coat of arms; a pair of falcons united around a shield bearing the legend "fide et sapientia," **(1)** the meaning of which was lost on Albus. When looking at the fireplace, words such as 'formidable,' 'stately' and 'unnecessary' would come into a visitor's mind. All in all, the room was not one for being casual in.

Albus, therefore, always felt that entering the living room was a forbidden exercise, although neither Mother nor Father had ever told him such. The only reason he had crept nervously in was because he'd lost Nurse, who had a habit of wandering off and then claiming that it was he who had done so. He had not expected Nurse to be there; indeed, the room was silent except for the sound of flames crackling and the wizards laughing over some wine.

He turned to leave when the fire suddenly caught his attention - it had suddenly turned green. He stared at the emerald flames in fascination - and then, to his surprise, a middle-aged man with short grey-brown hair tumbled out the fireplace.

The man stumbled, coughed and then tripped over a lamp to catch his balance just before he trod on Albus. He was clutching a silver-topped cane in one hand and a briefcase in the other and was wearing black robes with silver fastenings. His face was rather grey and haggard and he cursed under his breath until he saw Albus.

Having no idea as to whether the man was meant to be there or not, Albus was silent and stared blankly at him. The man scowled and tapped his cane on the floor. Albus noticed that one of his boots was crushing the wolf's head and was about to say so when the man spoke.

"Well then, haven't you a tongue or any manners, young man?"

"Uh - hello," said Albus, uncertainly.

The man frowned at him before tapping his cane again. "I am Professor Wood and I will be teaching you over the next few months. You will address me as Professor and you will not talk whilst I am talking. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor," replied Albus, feeling confused and nervous.

"Good," snapped Professor Wood. "Show me into your nursery and we will begin there."

Albus nodded, too overwhelmed to speak, before leading Professor Wood out of the living room and along the hallway to the nursery. Most of Albus's favourite toys had been moved to his bedroom and the remaining toys - the ones he didn't like so much - were stacked up against one wall. Apart from that, there was nothing in there apart from a table, two chairs and a small desk with an inkwell built into it. Their purpose was now apparent as Professor Wood gestured at him to sit at the desk whilst slamming his briefcase down on the table.

Albus shivered. He didn't like the nursery. There was something bad about it - but he couldn't think what.

Professor Wood opened his briefcase - and, for so small a briefcase, it was amazing what he managed to get out of it. He withdrew many rolls of parchment, some books, a quill and ink-pot and an armchair. He shunted the wooden chair at the table out of the way and nudged the armchair into place. He waved his cane and the ink-pot, quill and a roll of parchment floated over to the desk where Albus was sitting.

"We shall start with the alphabet," Professor Wood said shortly. He sighed and looked bored as he waved his cane and a red ribbon in the shape of the letter A appeared in mid-air. "This is the letter 'A.' It can be used as 'ah' or 'ai-'"

"Professor?" interrupted Albus.

Professor Wood scowled again. "I believe I told you to be quiet."

"But Professor - I already know the alphabet!" said Albus desperately. He did not want to have to learn the alphabet all over again.

Professor Wood looked surprised and sceptical. He raised one eyebrow. "Indeed? Recite it, then."

Albus did so and Professor Wood seemed somewhat disconcerted. He tapped his cane on the floor again; Albus wondered if he did so without realising it.

"Well, we shall see how well you read, then." He handed a book to Albus and told him to read the first story.

Albus found that the book was full of stories - but very boring, basic stories that weren't like his book about Merlin at all. The subject of the first story seemed to be a Crup and a 'big red ball.' Albus found it very easy and Professor Wood looked pleased. His tutor then went onto numbers, which Albus also found easy - except when Professor Wood asked him to count beyond the number thirty. He found addition simple as well - but didn't understand subtraction as well. Nevertheless, he managed a few simple subtraction problems near the end of the lesson and Professor Wood had stopped scowling and was now smiling.

"Well done, Master Dumbledore," he said primly, packing his things away. "Next time, we shall start counting after the number thirty and-"

Albus forgot what Professor Wood had said about not interrupting and pointed at the window. "Professor, look at that bird! What is it?"

The big golden bird on the branch outside started and glared at the auburn-haired youngster in the nursery beyond the window.

"What is _it!" _he squawked. "I am not an _it! You _are an it!"

"Master Dumbledore, I told you not to interrupt!" snapped Professor Wood, scowl back again.

"But, Professor - that bird-"

Professor Wood turned and looked - but too late; the bird had taken off and left. He frowned at Albus again, who looked back innocently.

"It flew off, Professor."

Professor Wood grunted and then said sternly, "I don't want you talking over me again, young man."

"No, Professor. I won't, Professor," apologised Albus, suitably chastened.

Professor Wood smiled, apparently satisfied. "You may go and tell your parents that you did well in our first lesson. You are quite a bright child."

Albus didn't know what 'bright' meant but the tone of Professor Wood's voice made him glow with pleasure. Mother and Father would be very happy. Once Professor Wood had gone, he went through the house searching for his parents, whom he found sitting and talking together in the drawing room. Father was smoking his cigar again; Albus wrinkled his nose and tried not to breathe the smoke in.

"Mother, Father," said Albus as he entered. "Professor Wood came, he-"

Father interrupted and Albus wondered if Professor Wood would ever tell Father to be quiet. "Really?" He turned to Mummy. "Honestly, he might have told us he'd arrived!"

Mother nodded but turned in her seat to face Albus, smiling. "How did your first lesson go?"

Albus beamed. "It was easy, Mother! Professor Wood said 'well done-''"

Mother smiled and pulled Albus into a warm hug. "Oh, that's wonderful, Albus-"

Seeing that Mother and Father kept on interrupting, Albus decided to blast on regardless of anything. "We did letters and then we did numbers and then we added them together and then we took them away and Professor Wood said that I was 'bright' but I'm not sure quite what that means-"

Mother's smile grew even broader. "Bright means that you have a sharp mind, Albus. That's brilliant, dear - I am most pleased."

Albus giggled with delight - but Father, whilst he was smiling too, did not seem as pleased as Mother.

"Deary me, Albus," he said, taking his cigar out of his mouth. "If you're not careful, life will make a scholar of you and not a real wizard."

Albus's brow wrinkled. That phrase, 'real wizard' again - but Albus had thought that he _was _a real wizard…

"Ulfin!" snapped Mother at Father, glaring at him. "You should be encouraging him!" She turned to Albus again. "Just ignore your father; he's being a fool - you did _very _well."

Albus, however, couldn't shake the idea that Father wasn't as happy as Mother. Perhaps he hadn't really done as well as Father wanted him to. He was confused about the idea of not being a 'real wizard.' Hadn't Father told him the previous night that he was one?

Albus went up to his room to play, still slightly confused. He had decided to play with his model broomsticks and had opened his bedroom door - when suddenly the idea flew out of his head.

A boy he had never seen before was sitting on his bed. The boy wore glasses - something which Albus had never seen before - over a pair of emerald green eyes and had a mop of untidy black hair. He also wore the strangest robes Albus had ever seen - it was as though he just wearing an undershirt and nothing else apart from lengths of material wrapped around his legs. Somehow, the two lengths joined together at the top where his crotch was and he didn't seem to have a cloak at all.

Albus stared at him. The boy stared back.

"Who are you?" Albus blurted, after a moment.

The unknown boy smiled at him and didn't answer the question. "You're Albus, aren't you?" He swung himself off the bed. "Come on, let's play."

"Um - okay," said Albus, deciding to just accept the fact that there was a boy there who wanted to play with him. He crouched down and opened the toy box.

The boy knelt down and grabbed one of the model broomsticks. Soon the boys were racing around the room, waving their arms over their heads. Once they tired of this, they sat down and started playing with the Gobstones - the delight of being squirted in the face with water was ageless. They were laughing and shrieking when Nurse opened the door.

She looked strangely at Albus, ignoring the other boy. "What are you up to, Chavy **(2)**?"

"I'm playing with my friend," he answered, thinking that it was perfectly obvious.

She gave him a funny look and then shook her head before leaving. Albus dismissed her from his mind and continued to play with his new-found friend.

**A/N: Review some more, people! There will be more Fawkes soon!**

**(1) - Fide et sapientia - latin for faith and wisdom. I thought that was kind of appropriate.**

**(2) - 'Chavy' is apparently Victorian slang for 'child.' Yes, I know, I find it bizarre as well. **


	5. Speshal Frends

A/N: Enjoy.

After finishing with the Gobstones, Albus and his new friend played tag all around the house. Father didn't like Albus running up and down the stairs and told him to go outside. The two boys therefore continued their game out in the back garden, where Nurse was sitting on a bench in the sun. For some reason, she watched them with great puzzlement and concern before hurrying inside.

Albus didn't care; Nurse would probably have told them to stop shouting or something. Now she was gone, they could scream as much as they liked. Little did he know that a certain large golden bird was staring at him from a beech tree.

Fawkes had been grooming himself with his beak when Albus's screams reached him. He sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn't even know why he was staying near Albus; it wasn't fun and in Fawkes's opinion, a young phoenix had better things to do, like flirting with sparrows and sleeping with hawks.

"Why the hell are you screaming!" he moaned, wishing he could block out the sound. "Stupid little-"

He stopped and looked at the scene more closely. Albus was running around screaming his head off and laughing at the same time. He suddenly stopped, pouted and then resumed running, this time looking rather more intent, with his arms stretched out as though reaching for something. He waved his arm in a portion of thin air and let out an unmistakeable cry of triumph before turning around and pelting off in the opposite direction, screaming again.

"Weird…" said Fawkes speculatively. But then, perhaps this was normal for human children. Perhaps all humans ran around like headless chickens swiping at empty air.

Albus suddenly stopped running, turned and looked disappointed.

"Oh," he moaned. "Can you come again?" There was a pause and then Albus beamed. "All right! See you tomorrow!" He waved at a nearby tree.

Fawkes blinked. This certainly couldn't be normal. Albus was acting as though someone else was present when there clearly wasn't. The child was utterly alone.

"Trust me to waste my time with the village idiot," groaned the phoenix. "Typical. Just typical."

Albus smiled at the space where his friend had just been. For a moment, he thought that it was slightly odd for the other boy to have simply vanished without a sound and as much as a wave of a wand. Then he shook his head and thought no more of it. He sat, beaming and panting, at the foot of a tree. He was glad that he had someone to play with now. Maybe his friend was one of those 'other little boys' Father had mentioned.

At dinner that night, Father asked what Albus had been doing when he'd been running up and down the stairs that afternoon. In fact, he seemed rather pleased at the idea of Albus running up and down the stairs, for some bizarre reason. Albus answered matter-of-factly.

"Tag, Father."

"Tag?" Father raised an eyebrow as he sipped at his wine. "I was under the illusion you needed two people to play Tag."

"Yes, I was playing it with my friend," said Albus vaguely, eyeing a potato doubtfully.

"What friend is this?" asked Mother, looking confused.

"My friend," said Albus helpfully, trying to cut up his potato without spraying gravy everywhere.

Mother and Father were now exchanging strange looks.

"What name does he go by?" asked Mother carefully.

"I don't know," admitted Albus. "I asked but he didn't tell me."

Father sighed. "Albus, you shouldn't answer the door on your own and you certainly shouldn't let in anybody without informing us."

"I didn't let him in, Father," protested Albus, a suspicious expression on his face as he looked at the piece of potato on his fork. "He already _was_ in."

Mother and Father looked at each other in alarm. Albus sensed the sudden change in mood and took the opportunity to forget about his potato.

"I suppose-" said Mother, looking at Father with wide eyes. "A boy from the village-"

Father was frowning. "The Wards must have come down… I should have known if someone had entered the house…"

Father took his wand out of his pocket and closed his eyes. Albus was surprised; Mother had once told Father off for taking his wand out at the dinner table - apparently it was bad manners - but she wasn't making any protest now. Father muttered words under his breath and waved his wand in a complicated movement. To Albus's amazement, glowing green threads of magic suddenly lined the walls - as though the magic was the bare bones of the building. He stared at them, impressed.

Eventually the magic faded and Father put his wand away still frowning. "The Wards weren't breached…" He turned to Albus. "Albus, you shouldn't let in any lads off the street without telling someone."

Albus opened his mouth to explain that he hadn't but Mother told him to eat his potato, which he did with something less than enthusiasm.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Albus's friend came again - appearing in his bedroom as though Albus had somehow dreamt him up during the night. He had arrived at the perfect time - just as Moopy had departed from doing up the complicated buckles on Albus's shoes for him. This time, however, the boy was not alone - another boy had arrived too.

Albus greeted his friend before looking at the other boy. This other child had short wispy auburn hair that reached his neck and didn't seem to cover his head properly and wore black robes more in the style that Albus was accustomed to. He had very strange eyes - they seemed to change colour constantly. At one moment, they seemed a fierce blue, the next, a dull black. He seemed intensely familiar to Albus but he couldn't think of where he had seen him before, so he dismissed the thought quickly.

Unlike the first boy, this boy did not look very happy at all. In fact, he looked annoyed and stared at Albus as though he was a nasty smell under his nose. He didn't appear to like the first boy at all either, glaring at him with his mouth a thin line.

"Hello, Albus," said his friend, beaming. Then his grin faded and he said apologetically, "Thom had to come too."

"Oh," said Albus. He held out a hand to Thom. "Hello, Thom."

Thom sniffed and turned his back to Albus, facing the wall. Albus understood: this boy did not want to be friends. He decided to ignore him and turned to his friend.

"Shall we go and play in the garden again?"

"Yes, let's!" said the other boy, grinning and hopping from one foot to the other in enthusiasm.

The pair rushed down the stairs together, laughing. Thom trailed behind, looking as though he wanted to vomit. Albus felt as though they should somehow include Thom but the expression on Thom's face stopped him from asking him whether he wanted to join in with their games.

Albus and his friend played Tag first whilst Thom sat on the bench and glared at them. After exhausting the game of Tag, Albus's friend started climbing one of the trees, apparently devoid of fear. Albus, seeing his friend do it, saw no reason not to do it himself and was soon up on a branch with his friend, giggling and pulling off pine cones. Thom stood under the tree, glaring upwards. Albus's friend threw a pine cone at him. Thom dodged it but went back to the bench and watched from there.

A voice was carried to them on the wind, interrupting their antics. Albus realised that it was Nurse calling him to lunch. He backed his way down the tree and jumped the last foot. He landed awkwardly and his friend back up in the tree laughed.

"On your bum! On your bum!"

Both boys lapsed into giggling.

"Bum!"

"_Bum!"_

Again, Nurse called. Albus wanted to keep on playing but knew that Mummy and Daddy wouldn't be very pleased if they knew that Albus had been playing with other little boys again. He took a step away from the tree and then remembered vaguely that he should really ask if Thom or his friend wanted anything to eat.

"Do you want anything to eat?" he asked.

Thom gave no sign that he'd heard but the other boy up in the tree shook his head firmly. "Don't worry, I'll be all right."

"Will you be here when I come back?" Albus asked. He very much wanted to keep on playing with his friend.

"Yes, we'll be here," said his friend and so Albus went off to lunch reluctantly.

Unfortunately, he'd forgotten that he had a lesson with Professor Wood and so had to leave his friend for even longer than he had planned. Professor Wood seemed to realise that he wasn't attentive as he'd been in the first lesson and started scowling again, so Albus made himself concentrate; he wanted Mother to be pleased. At the end of the lesson, Professor Wood once again said he'd done well and told him to tell his parents that he'd been very good at his reading.

Albus scampered off to find his parents - both of whom were in the living room this time. Once again, Mother hugged and praised him but Father again just grunted and didn't seem very interested. Feeling oddly disappointed, Albus left the room - but stopped when he heard his name mentioned.

"Ulfin, what ails you?" he heard Mother say in an annoyed voice. "Albus has been doing very well and you're giving him no encouragement at all!"

Albus heard Father sigh. "I don't know, Maria - he's already so bookish and he's only five years old-"

Mother made a snorting, derisive noise. "Bookish? Ulfin, he has just learnt to read!"

"-And so unlike how I was as a lad," said Daddy, apparently not listening. "When I was his age, I was climbing trees and catching frogs and zooming around on a toy broomstick outside, not hunched up in a library reading-"

"Ulfin, don't be silly. Just because he's taken a more constructive interest then you did-"

"Maria, I was a real little boy. Albus isn't. I think all this staying indoors reading is making him a bit strange."

"Nonsense! He's perfectly normal. Give him time; he's only five. I expect by the time he's ten you'll be wishing you'd encouraged him to be a bit calmer."

Father grunted and Albus walked away, feeling sad and confused for no clear reason. Father didn't think Albus was a real boy? **(1)** What did that mean?

Thom and his friend were still there, as his friend had promised. As he approached the tree feeling happier at the thought of playing some more, Thom suddenly got up from his bench and walked over to him.

"Father doesn't like you as much as Mother," said Thom in a nasty little voice.

Albus was surprised and wrong-footed. What was Thom talking about? Mother and Father both loved him… Somehow, although what Thom had said didn't really make sense, he felt sadder and less like playing.

Later that night, after both Thom and his friend had disappeared, Albus sat down and drew a picture of them both as well as himself. He did it in wizarding crayons, which were nice to suck as they were all different flavours, giving himself big orange-red hair and Thom big black eyes. He tried to draw his friend's funny clothes from memory and drew big circles around his eyes for the glasses. He used red to draw the funny-shaped mark on his friend's forehead before labelling the picture. He wrote 'Thom' under Thom and 'Albus' under himself but once again realised that he didn't know his friend's name. He decided to settle for 'My Speshal Frend' before going to bed and dreaming of trees and Thom's big black eyes.

**(1) - I could be really mean and give Albus gender confusion... but I won't**.


	6. Phase

A/N: Again, more people who deserve pedestals!

Dark Angel's Blue Fire - Thanks! That really made my day!

Ms Lippy - That's very nice of you.

TicTacTurtle - Thanks and, about Fawkes, I actually agree. But… Well, let's just say that Albus will not be the only character who changes in this story…

**On we go!**

Albus was on his swing, ascending up into the blue, cloudless sky. Beside him, his nameless friend was whooping and cheering as he too took to the air, linked to the ground only by a pair of ropes nailed to a tree branch. Thom was sat on the grass, some distance away, lip curled.

Albus's father had installed two swings on a tree, one either side of the trunk, in the vague hope that Albus might one day do the very thing he was doing now. He was not there to appreciate this, but someone else was - although the word 'appreciate' was certainly stretching the matter.

Fawkes was once again puzzling over the matter of the obviously delusional boy he had spent over three years watching. To his surprise, he realised that he felt quite dismayed at the idea that he'd wasted all that time vaguely hoping that Albus, the first child he'd seen, would have some sort of redeeming quality that made him somewhat less disgusting than other humans.

"Ridiculous," he muttered to himself.

Albus was just another irrational, annoying two-leg, who would grow up to be an equally irritating young man who would inevitably be swallowed up in the mendacity humans had woven for themselves and die a cantankerous old man, whose whole life would amount to nothing more than the extended buzzing of a mayfly. It had been silly to think anything else - and now the phoenix had discovered that the boy was deranged and so even less able than the rest of his hopeless kind.

Fawkes realised, with a fall of the heart, that he had been hoping that he wouldn't have to start the search anew. He had been hoping that it would just automatically sort itself out.

"As if it would be that easy!" he said aloud bitterly.

He found himself thinking that it was a real shame. If one ignored the screaming and the general clueless ness of human youngsters, Albus could really be seen as quite cute. Those big blue eyes… that fuzzy head of hair that was almost the same colour as Fawkes's plumage… Fawkes found himself gazing at the boy in a mentally subnormal way and shook his head to clear it - and noticed that the other swing's movement was a little too violent to be just down to the wind.

The phoenix stared at it confusedly and then shook his head again. What did it matter? He had to decide what to do now… Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something shimmer on the empty swing.

He turned his head to look at it directly but couldn't see a thing. Slowly, his plumage began to bush out. He had _definitely _seen something there.

He shifted so that he wasn't looking directly at the swing and for a moment, he got a clear, if a little awkward, view of a small boy with untidy black hair and glasses sitting and sniggering on the swing. Fawkes couldn't hear the boy's snigger but saw his mouth opening and closing. If he tried to see the boy with both eyes at once, he simply vanished. In moving his head, he got a brief glance of yet another boy sat down on the grass some way away. Like the first boy, this other boy was only visible if looked at indirectly in a way that strained the eyes.

Hope suddenly flared in Fawkes's chest. Albus was not as mad and delusional as he had at first seemed. And yet-

Fawkes could not see any reason why Albus would suddenly gain two unknown invisible friends who weren't actually all that invisible. His mind flew back to that strange incident in the nursery with Albus's brother. That was the reason he'd stayed - because it had proved that Albus wasn't quite the average dribbling little human - and now Albus was once again being abnormal in a way that Fawkes couldn't understand.

"What's going on with this boy?" he asked the empty air, as Albus tired of the swing and invited his friend to play Tag again.

As Albus and his friend ran around screaming, occasionally shouting in either triumph or defeat as Thom watched sulkily nearby, Maria Dumbledore gazed worriedly out of the window at her only son. She had been pleased to see Albus using the swing and having a good time; he had been a little too serious lately. Now she was alarmed and anxious at the sight of Albus playing with someone who wasn't there.

She peered out at the boy, hoping that she would see some explanation for his behaviour - but there seemed to be none. She couldn't help wishing that Albus was still sitting in the library reading.

Maria heard her husband step into the room behind her but didn't turn around.

"Maria?" said Ulfin questioningly, seeing her standing rigid at the window. Then he glanced out of the window and grinned at the sight of Albus frolicking amongst the buttercups. "I think I spoke too soon - he's finally…"

Maria knew why he'd stopped and didn't need to look at him to see his grin fade. She sensed him move beside her to get a better view. There was a pause.

"What… What's the matter with him, Maria?" Ulfin stared in consternation out of the window. "He's acting like… like he's touched in the head or something!"

"It's not all that unusual to have an invisible friend when you're that age, Ulfin," said Maria quietly, hesitantly. Indeed, she herself had had an invisible friend when she was a young girl, called Polly. However, all Polly had been was a tool to get attention with - not somebody she actually went off and played with on her own - whilst Albus seemed to genuinely believe that somebody was chasing him and trying to tag him.

"I told you all that reading would make him queer," said Ulfin angrily in a low voice.

"It's probably just a phase," protested his wife desperately. "Children go through all sorts of…"

It was too late; Ulfin had bowed his head. Maria felt a shaft of anger go through her.

"Don't you dare, Ulfin Dumbledore!" she cried, facing him with her chin upwards. "Don't you dare be disappointed in him! He's a clever, affectionate child-"

"If he wants to make his way in the world, he needs to be more than 'clever and affectionate,'" said Ulfin shortly.

"Ulfin," said Maria, holding up her hands in a placating way. "We're both overreacting; children do all sorts of funny things. And we've only seen him doing this _once. _We should only worry if it carries on and grows into something harmful. I agree that perhaps we should get Nurse to take him to the park and meet some other little boys but I think we're taking this too seriously."

Ulfin grunted and nodded, sighing. "You're right, my dear. I think I am just worried about how quiet he is."

Maria glanced at him concernedly before turning her eyes back to Albus.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Albus hadn't wanted to go to the park until it became apparent that his friend was coming with him. Having extracted this promise out of the other little boy, he made no protest as Nurse made him put on his outdoor cloak and led him by the hand down the pathway to the front gate.

Thom also came but looked as though he was being forced to, walking about three feet behind the rest of them with his eyes, flashing from blue to black to red and back again, fixed on Albus's back. Fawkes also followed the group, flying from tree to tree, catching odd glimpses of the two unknown boys with Albus.

Nurse, of course, was oblivious to all this. Albus didn't understand why she frowned at him when he asked whether his friends could come with him. He also thought that it was quite rude of her to totally ignore both Thom and the other boy.

The massive, iron-wrought gate was opened by Nurse's wand and Albus looked around curiously as they emerged into the road outside that was little more than a decorated lane. He had almost forgotten that there was a world outside Dumbledore Manor. Trees were planted neatly every six feet or so along the pavement and there were a few quaint cottages dotted along the other side of the road. The sun was hot on the top of his head and

Thom hung back but Albus's 'speshal frend' scampered ahead. Albus wanted to join him and tugged at Nurse's arm but she held him more tightly and he ceased struggling. Albus's friend seemed to notice because he dropped back to walk beside Albus. He nodded at Nurse.

"She can't see us," he said, a mischievous glint in his shielded green eyes.

Albus stopped, bewildered, before Nurse dragged him onwards. She gave him a funny look when he spoke to his friend.

"What do you mean?"

"Me or Thom," his friend elaborated. "She can't see us. Only you can see us."

"Why?" asked Albus.

"I don't know," said the other boy with a vaguely puzzled expression. "I thought she could but I tried speaking to her once and she couldn't."

"Only I can see you?"

"I think so. Mind you, we haven't met many people yet."

"What's your name?" asked Albus, realising that this piece of information was still missing.

The boy tapped the side of his nose and shook his head, smirking. "It's a secret," he said.

"But I know Thom's name!" protested Albus indignantly. Nurse hushed him, appearing perturbed, but he ignored her.

"Yes," agreed his friend. "He doesn't like me," he added suddenly.

"Why not?"

"I don't know," said his friend again.

"_I _like you," Albus reassured him.

"Thank you, Albus," beamed the other boy. "I like you too."

Albus suddenly noticed that he was in the village proper. The cottages had turned into little oak-beamed houses and there were a good deal more of them. The street had become narrower and scruffier and there weren't so many trees. Albus saw other people walking along, some of whom looked at Nurse and him curiously. He felt suddenly nervous and pressed himself into Nurse's side.

The park was just ahead - a relatively small patch of greenery in the cobbled streets. It was surrounded by an iron-wrought fence that reminded Albus of the front gate. As they entered, Albus saw other people sat down on the grass in the distance and children playing on toy broomsticks nearby.

Nurse set down the basket she was carrying underneath a chestnut tree and took a blanket out of it, which she spread on the dewy grass. She also took out Albus's toy broomstick, which had been shrunk to fit, and restored it to full size before giving it to him. She sat down on the blanket, puffing, and looked up at Albus, who was still standing.

"Chavy, you can go and have a play with some other little boys now. Don't you go out of sight and I want you coming when I call, all right?"

Albus nodded obediently and left her cooling herself with a charm from her wand. He walked uncertainly towards a group of children in the distance and then stopped, apprehensive.

"Go on, Albus," urged his friend abruptly, smiling. "We can go and say hello. It'll be fun."

"They'll think you're weird," sniffed Thom, eyes narrowed, sneer in place. "They won't want to play with _you."_

Albus looked from one to the other, torn.

Before he could decide on anything, another little boy had suddenly walked up, a friendly look on his face. He was carrying a toy broomstick too and reminded Albus oddly of Mr Lupin.

"Hello. I'm Samuel. Who are you?"

A/N: Well, any more people want to come forward and claim awards for reviewing?


	7. Choice And Bonding

**A/N: Again, enjoy. I certainly enjoyed writing it. **

"I'm Albus," said Albus hesitantly. He wished that Nurse had let him stay at home; Thom's words had made him feel very apprehensive about meeting any other little boys. After all, Thom didn't like him… what if the others didn't?

However, this new boy smiled and didn't look as though he thought Albus was weird at all. He had blondish-brown hair, soft brown eyes and there was a scattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He was quite thin, although not as thin as Albus, and wore robes that seemed to have a rather second-hand quality about them - they were a little large from him and there were many places where his robes had obviously been ripped and then mended by someone who clearly didn't know how to use the Reparo spell on fabric.

"Do you want to race?" asked Samuel, holding out his broomstick and nodding at Albus's.

"Okay-" said Albus but then he stopped, remembering his friend and Thom. He turned to them to ask if they would mind, when he bit his lip. His friend had said that nobody but him could see them and Albus realised that it would seem very strange indeed if he began speaking to thin air.

Thom was completely ignoring Albus but the other boy seemed to understand and gave a smile and a nod to him. Albus felt relieved; he didn't want his first friend feel as though he didn't like him anymore. He turned back to Samuel, who was looking at him impatiently, one leg already hooked over his toy broomstick.

Albus grinned at him and set his own toy broomstick in the air before climbing on it. Samuel started immediately and soon both boys were zooming all around the park, laughing and screaming as they dodged trees. In reality, they weren't going very fast at all but it felt impossibly quick to both boys as their broomsticks vibrated under them.

Eventually, Albus won - his broomstick seemed slightly better than Samuel's - but Samuel didn't seem to mind. Albus remembered that Nurse had packed a picnic and asked whether Samuel wanted to join them.

"I think I could if Mother came," said Samuel. He turned and ran to find his mother.

Albus felt suddenly jealous. Samuel's mother went to the park with him - but Mother never went anywhere with Albus; it was always Nurse…

"That's because you're stupid and strange and Mother doesn't like you," hissed Thom, eyes glittering, seeming to know what Albus was thinking.

"He's wrong," argued the other secret boy. He glared at Thom with his emerald eyes. "Your mum loves you."

Albus gulped. He wished Thom would go away; he always made him feel bad.

He ran over to Nurse, who reading a book in the sunshine on the blanket. He asked if a friend and his mummy could join them for the picnic and Nurse nodded and said yes, just as Samuel and his mummy arrived.

Samuel's mummy was a thin, pale woman also dressed in robes that seemed ill-kept. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes that seemed permanently tearful. Lots of other people in the park were looking at her coldly as she walked over to Nurse and Albus. Albus thought his mummy looked prettier but said nothing.

"Good afternoon," said the woman, folding her legs delicately under her as she sat down. "I hope you have no objections?"

"Of course not, my lady," said Nurse, who was getting out the food.

Albus tried to talk to Samuel but he seemed to be enjoying the food too much to fully pay attention. Samuel's mother also seemed to be trying to talk to Nurse but Nurse grunted to everything she said so soon the picnic was taking place in an uncomfortable silence.

Albus no longer noticed this once Samuel had finished his food and had started nattering on about what he'd gotten for his birthday the previous week. He too had begun to talk about Professor Wood when Samuel's mother interrupted him.

"Excuse me, but what is your name? Samuel didn't say."

"Albus Percival Wulferic Brian Dumbledore," said Albus, standing up and politely holding out his hand.

The woman was silent for a minute and her eyes suddenly went cold. She did not take Albus's hand and Albus eventually put his hand down, feeling unhappy. Why didn't Samuel's mother like him?

Samuel's mother was still watching him and then her gaze softened slightly. She gave the confused Albus a small smile. "Thank you for playing with my son," she said.

Before Albus could reply, she had gotten up and had turned to Nurse. "Thank you for the picnic. Could you possibly pass on a message to Mr Dumbledore for me?"

Nurse looked at her with what Albus recognised as her neutral expression. "Depends what it is, my lady."

Samuel's mother was looking frosty again and she spoke in a rather harsh voice. "Please tell him that Marcus was only being friendly and that if he weren't so prejudiced, he would have been aware of that."

"More'n my job's worth to tell him that," answered Nurse, face impassive.

The other woman stared at her and then turned away. "Come along, Samuel."

"Wait," said Albus to Samuel as he got up. "What's your name? Your whole name, so I can tell Mother and Father about you."

Samuel beamed. "Samuel Aurelius Lupin."

Albus's grin faded and he gazed at Samuel in dismay. Father had told him not to go near any boys called Lupin! Samuel was a - a mudblood.

"You're a mudblood." Albus said it without any emotion, just wonderingly, as if speaking his thoughts aloud.

Samuel saw the look on his face, heard his words and seemed suddenly upset. "Lots of people don't like me because of that," he squeaked and he went back to his mummy, expression downcast. Mrs Lupin cast a hard look at Albus, who was frozen with indecision as the pair started to walk away.

His nameless friend stood nearby, face blank but staring intently at him. Thom sidled up to him and whispered in his ear.

"Good! You shouldn't play with nasty mudbloods. Father told you not to."

At that moment, Albus saw Samuel look back at him. Samuel's face was flushed and a tear was leaking down his cheek; the boy was thoroughly miserable. His head turned away and Albus stared after him with big eyes.

"It's time to leave now, Albus," he heard Nurse say.

Suddenly, he was running across the grass, hair streaming in the wind, towards Samuel and his mother. He was waving his arms and shouting for them to stop. Mrs Lupin dragged her son onwards but Albus ran round so he was right in front of Samuel, forcing them to stop.

The expression on Mrs Lupin's face had grown even harder, so that it reminded Albus of a stone, but he ignored her. He held out his hand solemnly to Samuel, whose head was turned away from him and bowed, evidently not wanting to speak to Albus.

"Forever friends?" whispered Albus, some part of him inside writhing at the thought of Samuel crying because of him. Mrs Lupin's expression changed abruptly.

Samuel's head snapped back. His wet eyes widened and gradually, the suffusion drained out of his face. Albus looked at him nervously, wondering if Samuel didn't like him anymore.

Samuel took Albus's hand and gave it a shake. "Friends," he said very quietly but it seemed to sound extremely loudly in Albus's ears. Albus beamed in delight.

He risked a glance at Mrs Lupin, who was now smiling warmly at him. She patted him gently on the shoulder before taking Samuel's hand once more and leading him off. Albus waved at Samuel, who waved happily back.

"Bye!" he called.

"Bye bye!" called Samuel back.

Nurse fetched him, the basket back in her hand, looking a bit put out. Albus allowed himself to be dragged off. His nameless friend was grinning at him but Thom was snarling like a kneazle.

"Father will be angry!" he snapped.

"Father doesn't know," said Albus quietly, realising that this, like Thom and his special friend, would have to remain secret. Father might hex him if he knew. He had never done so before but Albus had once been threatened with it when he'd smashed a vase by accident when he was younger.

Above him, something amazing was happening.

It had been like a bolt of lightning. One moment Fawkes had been sitting and watching Samuel and Albus play feeling quite bored, the next, there had been a sudden revelation and a powerful yank in the direction of Albus.

It had happened when Albus had run up to Samuel and extended his friendship. The part of Fawkes that had been bored had found the interaction mildly interesting and that was it. However, the bit of Fawkes that had been there since his first birth (which was still fairly recent) had let out a very definite cry of ancient recognition. Something had moved within him and it wasn't his bowels. Then, without warning, an instinct had risen up inside him so strongly that he had had to fight to keep himself from flying over and landing on Albus's shoulder. It was if his heart was being pulled towards him.

There was that blazing moment of revelation that had flashed momentarily inside his mind: _this boy will rise up above the deception and throw it down. _He was the one.

Fawkes did not understand why such a simple scene had so utterly convinced his soul that Albus was the one he had been looking for. Yes, he had been considering the boy but nothing could have prepared him for that forceful _yes _that had sounded within his brain, within his very being.

For the first time, Fawkes looked down at the boy walking below and saw something else standing somehow beyond him, something astonishing. His mind had been made up for him.

_But he's only a little kid with stupid orange hair, _thought Fawkes, trying to somehow reason with himself. However, he was unable to stop the overriding force inside him answering back.

_A little kid with stupid orange hair who might do something special._

'Special.' Heck, he knew Albus was _strange _- with his invisible friends, odd powers that had revealed themselves when he was a toddler and funny addiction to reading. Special? That would remain to be seen.

Now the only thing to do was to somehow catch Albus alone - without even his secret friends - to 'bond' with him. Fawkes would finally have to start 'shaping history' - though how one was exactly supposed to do that, he didn't know.

------------------------------------------------

Albus was sitting outside reading, it being another sunny day, when he saw the big golden bird again. He was sitting on the bench in the back garden and was finishing his book about Merlin when he heard a rustling sound in the nearby tree.

He looked up from the blindingly white pages of his book to see the golden bird sitting on a tree branch. His mouth dropped open and he gazed at the bird in awe.

"Pretty…" he murmured.

The golden bird suddenly took off from the tree branch and flew straight towards Albus. To the boy's amazement the bird landed right next to him on the bench. Albus was startled and slid off the bench onto the grass. The bird followed him, so that boy and phoenix were sitting and standing respectively on the ground, facing each other.

Albus looked into the bird's big brown eyes and all the background noises of the garden seemed to fade into nothing. There was just silence and the bird's big dark eyes staring right into his, looking so deeply that Albus felt as though he was no longer sitting in the garden at all; he was somewhere else - sinking into a deep lake filled with stars…

Without breaking eye-contact, the phoenix began to sing, weaving a melody around them both so that they were one, they were in harmony… It was the most beautiful thing Albus had ever heard in his life and there was nothing but the song and those eyes looking into blue eyes that were looking back at him again…

The definition between phoenix and boy ceased to exist. For one glorious moment, Albus was the bird, with a soft, lovely plumage of red, yellow, orange and gold and he was looking at a thin boy with wild hair and blue eyes out of which a phoenix stared.

Eventually the singing stopped. There was utter silence; the surrounding wildlife had heard the phoenix song. All Albus knew was that the golden bird and he were now interchangeable - there would be the boy, and there would be the phoenix, and they were no longer alone in the world.


	8. Please Mummy

A/N: Reviewers are demi-gods, really they are.

TicTacTurtle - Thanks! That's really encouraging and nice of you. Hopefully my idea will end up making sense in the end…

Dark Angel's Blue Fire - Thank _you. _Though I really don't think it's all that wonderful…:)

**Okay, here we go!**

Fawkes was so shocked by the powerful feelings that had risen up inside him during the bonding and the fact that he'd managed to sing such a beautiful song without going a note wrong that he just sat and stared at the boy in front of him, who was gasping and gazing back with wide eyes. Dimly, he thought how hard he'd tried before to sing a wonderful song and how often he'd failed and realised that the bonding song had been almost effortless in comparison, yet almost to the standard his father had sung to.

Albus was still panting and transfixed by the phoenix, which seemed immobile and just as stunned as the boy. Then the creature ruffled its wings and looked back into his eyes.

"Hello."

Albus nearly jumped a foot in the air.

"You can talk!" he exclaimed breathlessly. He had been fairly sure before that birds couldn't talk.

"Of course I can," sniffed the bird. "Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, you can understand me now."

Albus, however, did not take in a single word, as he was still amazed at the sight of a bird talking. He eventually found his tongue, to ask the question that was foremost in his mind.

"Please, what are you?"

The bird drew itself up and seemed slightly insulted. "I am a phoenix!" Fawkes was about to describe, in detail, how fantastic his species were, when the boy spoke again.

"I'm Albus Dumbledore. I'm a boy."

"Yes, I am aware of that," said the phoenix testily, embarrassed at how emotional the bonding had been.

"You're very beautiful," said Albus wonderingly. He had a strong urge to grab the bird and hug it but had the feeling that this gesture would be unwelcome for some reason.

"Wonderful - that's just the right attitude," said the bird approvingly. "Now-"

"Are you mine?" asked Albus abruptly. "What shall I call you?"

The phoenix blinked and closed his eyes, muttering under his breath. "Yes… I am 'yours,' as you put it. But you, boy, are also mine." The tone was rather pointed.

Albus gave the phoenix a confused look and then repeated the second question. "What shall I call you? Let me think of a name…" He pouted and screwed up his face in concentration.

"I already have a name!" snapped the bird. "And I would _like_ you to call me 'Your Majesty' … but I suppose it must just be Fawkes."

"Oh. Sorry," said Albus quickly. He didn't want the bird to go away. "Your Majesty-"

"Fawkes," Fawkes corrected reluctantly.

"Are you going to stay with me?"

Fawkes looked up into the boy's huge blue eyes and thin face surrounded by its mane of hair and felt himself soften again. "Yes."

"Shall I ask Mother-" began Albus but the bird had suddenly jumped backwards.

"Ah! My Burning's come early - must've been the energy of the bonding-"

Then, to Albus's horror, the phoenix burst into flames! The boy let out a cry and leapt upwards, gaping at the burning bird before him. A bad memory stirred inside his head and Albus stood helplessly, arms held limply by his sides, as the phoenix named Fawkes let out a squawk and then was reduced to a pile of smouldering ashes.

Albus let out a whimper - and then the small bald head of a baby bird emerged from the pile of ashes. Its over-sized brown eyes turned in the boy's direction.

Albus had not noticed the baby bird. His bright blue eyes had filled with tears and one had already leaked down his cheek. His face was screwed up, lip wobbling, and his arms were wrapped around himself giving himself a hug. For a moment Fawkes sat amongst the ashes of his old body and stared at him, feeling oddly touched, but then he realised that unless he did something, the boy was going to start howling.

"Albus!"

Albus jumped and let out a yelp. He looked around wildly for Fawkes. His eyes fell on the baby bird sitting amongst the ashes, flapping its stubby wings.

"It's me, Fawkes," said Fawkes reassuringly, deciding to be gentle - the last thing he wanted was for the boy to start yelling. "I'm not dead, see?"

Albus sniffled and crouched down beside the baby bird in amazement. The little creature in the middle of the dark ashes was not like the big golden bird at all - it had no feathers, was an ugly pink-grey and the only thing that was the same was its eyes - but it had spoken with the phoenix's voice. Albus didn't understand.

"You're not Fawkes," he whispered doubtfully, another tear wending its way down his face.

"Oh yes I am," said the baby bird. "It's all right Albus - all phoenixes do that."

"Do they?" asked the boy hopefully, small face still very sad.

"Yes," said Fawkes desperately - it really looked as though Albus was still going to start bawling regardless. "Every few months."

Albus suddenly gave the phoenix a watery smile. Unable to restrain himself, he scooped up the baby Fawkes and crushed him against his chest. Fawkes found this very uncomfortable and screeched at Albus to let him go. Albus did so but was still smiling, until an unpleasant thought struck him.

"Does it hurt?" he asked with a concerned expression.

"No, not really," replied Fawkes. "It feels like I'm being tickled, that's all."

"Oh," said Albus, beaming, all trace of tears vanishing. "Good."

At that moment, his friend with the messy black hair and glasses appeared and called his name. Albus called out in greeting, making Fawkes jump. He could not see the boy but knew that one of Albus's semi-invisible friends must be present. He turned his head until he got a brief glimpse of them and said nothing.

"Hello," said Albus's special friend. He stopped when he saw Albus standing beside a small baby bird by some ashes. "What are you doing?"

"This is Fawkes," said Albus, gesturing at the bird, but then his voice faded away. Could Fawkes actually see whom he was talking to? "Wait," he said to his friend and then turned to the phoenix.

"Can you see anybody here?" he asked, pointing over at where his friend was. "Some people can't see him, I know-"

"I can see him," said the phoenix carefully. "But only sometimes. And I can't hear him at all."

Albus grinned at him. "Good - he's my special chum," he explained. He turned back to said friend. "This is Fawkes, my…" He glanced back the bird.

"Phoenix," said the bird wearily. He was feeling tired after his Burning.

"Yes, that," said Albus.

"Albus, what's his name? And what's the other one's name?" asked Fawkes, trying to sound as though he wasn't too interested.

"I don't know," answered Albus, grinning at his friend. "He won't tell me - but the other one is called Thom."

"Ah," said Fawkes and, in turning his head, got a glimpse of Thom walking towards them. Thom was glaring daggers at the phoenix; he looked as though he wanted to run over and strangle the life out of him. "He doesn't seem to like me very much."

"He doesn't like anyone very much," said Albus apologetically.

"Albus," sighed Fawkes. "I would like to go to sleep now; I have to sleep after my Burning."

The boy blinked at him. "Okay - but I need to ask Mother whether I can keep you, first. Stay here and wait and then we can play," he added to his special friend, who nodded happily.

"You'll need to carry me," said Fawkes, uneasy at the idea of entrusting himself into the care of a five-year-old but aware that, if left outside, he could soon be the dinner of a hungry Kneazle. "I can't fly until I get my feathers back."

"Okay," agreed Albus, who reached down for him. Fawkes flinched, expecting him to crush him like he had before, but Albus seemed to have realised that he needed to be gentle and picked up the bird in his hands as though Fawkes was made of china. Albus walked carefully indoors, in search of his Mother. Father was away again and Nurse was nowhere to be seen as the little boy dutifully carried Fawkes along to the drawing room, having last seen Mother there.

Mother was indeed there, sitting at the side of a table. She was gazing out of the window and the beginnings of a tapestry lay abandoned in her lap. She looked round as Albus approached.

"Good afternoon, Albus, what are you-" She stopped at the sight of what Albus was carrying. "What on earth is that! Put it back outside at once; it's probably filthy!"

"Excuse me?" said Fawkes irritably. "Filthy?"

"But Mother," protested Albus. "I want to keep it as my pet!"

Mother shook her head firmly but her expression was sympathetic. "No, darling. If you want a pet, we'll get you a Crup when you're older."

"But Mother," pleaded the boy, "I want _this _to be my pet! It's a phoenix, Mother!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Albus," said his mother primly. "Phoenixes are big, beautiful and very rare - you wouldn't just find one in your garden. And that thing is little and ugly - what in Merlin's name would you want with it?"

"What do _you_ know about it, Mrs Ugly Human?" squawked Fawkes in indignation.

"It _is_ a phoenix, Mother! It told me so," said Albus unhappily.

"Don't talk such nonsense; phoenixes don't talk, they sing. Now put it outside at once."

Albus whimpered. "_Please?" _he whined.

"Albus-" said Maria Dumbledore sternly.

Albus's eyes grew bigger and bigger. He gazed up her with his lower lip trembling, clasping the phoenix to his chest. His eyes seemed as though they were made of liquid sapphire and he looked as though he were a saintly child whose heart would be truly broken if made to give the bird up.

"Ah - is this where I'm supposed to look cute?" said Fawkes vaguely, before stretching his neck out and widening his eyes, trying to look less like a small featherless creature with stubby wings and more like a fluffy little pet.

Maria looked down at the pair of them, at a loss. The combination of Albus's big blue eyes as well as the way his lip was wobbling made him look hopelessly adorable. Indeed, one could almost believe that Albus was not really from Earth at all and that he was actually a cherub who had somehow wandered out of Eden and was now dependant on the kindliness of others. Maria found herself thinking that refusal would destroy Albus and that, somehow, she had been cast in the role of the wicked, heartless mother and the boy was the innocent, abused child, who would shrivel up and die like a flower denied water if she said no. Even that horrible creature he held in his hands seemed to be beseeching her to say yes.

She sighed and nodded. "Very well, Albus. But you look after it."

Albus's woebegone expression disappeared instantly and a twinkle that would later become famous lit in his blue eyes. He set the bird down on a table and then enveloped his mother in a hug before picking up the bird again and dashing out of the room.

"Yippee," said Fawkes dully as he was carried up to Albus's bedroom.

Albus stopped and the phoenix was astonished to see the boy give him a stern look. Albus looked down at him seriously.

"Don't call my Mother ugly."

Fawkes couldn't help but roll his eyes. "All right. I won't. Now put me down and let me sleep."

Albus seemed satisfied with his promise and took him into his bedroom. He put Fawkes down on his bed and then opened his toy box to get the blue baby blanket he'd had when he was younger. He arranged it into a little nest on the window sill before setting Fawkes down into the hollow in the middle.

"Thanks," said Fawkes, surprised by this thoughtfulness. "Goodnight."

"Night, night," whispered Albus before running out to join his friend outside.


	9. Troubles

A/N: Reviewers! You rock!

AnnaK - Glad to see you're still reading! And THANK YOU VERY MUCH for your constructive criticism. I'm afraid I was getting so wrapped up in the story that I'd forgotten the time period. To be honest, I'm not sure whether I have either the skill or knowledge to carry it off. Any suggestions would be very helpful, as I hardly learnt anything about the Victorian era in school. In response, however, I've gone back over the previous chapters and altered things very slightly so that the language is a wee bit more 'old.' 'Mummy and Daddy' are now 'Mother and Father' and I shall try to insert whatever Victorian slang I actually understand where I can. I have more to say on the matter at the end of this chapter.

Dark Angel's Blue Fire - THANKS! Hope you continue to like it!

Shifter1 - Thanks! Am loving Naked Time! Keep writing it!

Sorry for the delay (ahem, loss of concentration). On we go.

When Albus woke up the next morning, he at first did not remember Fawkes and only had the vague sensation that something important had happened the day before - but couldn't think what. It was only when he had leapt out of bed and run towards the door in his nightshirt that a loud squawk brought the memories back.

Fawkes had woken up several hours before Albus and had desperately wanted to relieve himself. Knowing that Mrs Dumbledore would throw him out if he did so inside, he'd sat with his legs crossed for what seemed forever, watching the splodge of orange on the pillow that was Albus's head for any signs of movement. Unfortunately, the boy seemed to want to sleep for what seemed to Fawkes for a ridiculous amount of time. Now that Albus was finally awake, Fawkes did not want him striding out of the room without him.

Albus stared at the phoenix in delight. "Oh! You're real!" he cried out in sudden appreciation of the fact.

"Yes, yes," said Fawkes, flapping his stubby wings impatiently. "Take me outside!"

"Why? You're not going, are you?" asked the boy in a small voice. The idea of Fawkes flying away was unthinkable; unbearable.

"No, no, no," said Fawkes hastily. "I just want to… go outside."

"Okay then."

Albus smiled and went over to the window sill. He scooped Fawkes up before walking out onto the chilly landing. He couldn't help but hug the bird as he did so; it was almost instinctive and he liked the idea that Fawkes needed him to look after him. Before the pair had even reached the stairs, however, Albus's special friend appeared.

"Good morning," said the sable-haired boy cheerily. "Shall we play later?"

"Yes," replied Albus eagerly, about to explain that Fawkes wanted to go outside anyway, but as his friend's fringe moved slightly, a question leapt to his tongue and swept all else aside. "How did you get that?"

"Get what?"

Albus pointed at the lightning-bolt scar on the other boy's forehead. "That."

His friend looked puzzled and slightly confused, as though Albus had asked why humans have five fingers. "I don't know. It's always been there."

"Oh," said Albus and the topic was dismissed. Later on, he would wonder about it more.

* * *

Father came home the following fortnight. By that time, Fawkes had regained a good deal of his plumage; his feathers growing so fast that his body seemed to be struggling to catch up. Albus proudly went to show Father his pet, whilst Mother stood looking apprehensive in the background. 

Ulfin Dumbledore had had a tiring few weeks. Being Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, especially at such a troubling time, was by no means easy. When confronted by Albus and what was apparently a new pet, his first impulse was to shoo the boy away back to his infamous books and ask Maria about it later. Before acting upon this impulse, he happened to glance at the new pet.

Albus was pleased that Father did not seem to object to Fawkes the way Mother had. However, Father was curiously silent, to the point that Albus wondered if he had somehow displeased his Father again and launched into a repertoire of the good things Professor Wood had said about him whilst he had been away. Father seemed even less interested in this and Albus went away disappointed.

As his son departed from the room, Ulfin shrugged off his travelling cloak and turned to his wife, eyebrows raised. He had the satisfaction of seeing Maria look guilty.

"I'm sorry Ulfin - but he was so insistent about it, the little lamb. I'm afraid I just couldn't resist him." There was a pause and then she continued on in an almost defiant tone of voice. "You're always going on about how you would like to make a real boy of him and a pet-"

Ulfin held up a hand to hush her. "Maria," he said slowly and carefully, "do you have any idea what he has got there? A phoenix, Maria, no less! Do you have any idea how valuable one of those is?" he added excitedly.

Maria's hand went to her mouth and her eyes widened. Ulfin, meanwhile, was evaluating the possibilities whilst stroking his thin beard.

"I'd say we could get about five Galleons per feather… Merlin knows why it's chosen to stay with a small boy - but then, Albus is so very quiet-"

"My special little boy," whispered Maria, hugging an invisible Albus to her. "It's staying with him because he's special, Ulfin."

Ulfin waved his hand at this irrelevancy. "The problem is, I've heard that they're quite selective about whom they let near… I suppose we could persuade Albus to-"

"Ulfin, you're not listening!" said Maria, eyes sparkling. "You just said it yourself: phoenixes don't stay with just any Tom, Dick or Harry off the street. My Albus is going to grow up into a wonderful person."

"Maria," sighed Ulfin, rolling his eyes. "Firstly - and I like to believe that this is because of my intervention when he was born - our son is _not _any Tom, Dick or Harry - and secondly, you read far too much into old folk tales. A phoenix is a magical beast that we can make use of, and that is that."

So it was that Albus was asked, to his great confusion, to pluck one of the warm feathers from Fawkes's colourful plumage once every few weeks. Fawkes submitted to this with bad grace but accepted that Mr Dumbledore was unlikely to let him stay unless he did so. Also to Albus's bewilderment, for Professor Wood had not yet proclaimed Albus a genius above all others in the world, Mother began to assure Albus regularly that he was special and looked at him with such pride glinting in her soft brown eyes that sometimes the boy felt quite shy.

* * *

Over the next two months, Albus enjoyed his time with Fawkes and his special friend. Fawkes often talked about things that Albus did not understand and several times seemed to find Albus so annoying that the boy was afraid he would fly away. Luckily the bird never did - Fawkes somehow found that he could never quite bring himself to fly away - perhaps having something to do with the fact that, despite multiple assurances, Albus never failed to become upset when Fawkes Burned. 

Albus's special friend remained as mysterious and yet as friendly as ever. The pair had to put up with Thom brooding in the background but as he did nothing but brood and occasionally tell Albus nasty things about Father not loving him as much as Mother, he was usually successfully ignored. The only time when he drew their attention was when Albus spotted him hissing at a grass snake in the orchard one day.

Albus and his friend watched him spitting and hissing for a while and the snake hissing and spitting back. It sounded quite ominous.

"He's like that," said Albus's friend vaguely. "He's talked to them before."

"I didn't know you could talk to snakes," thought Albus aloud.

"I don't know whether _I_ can talk to snakes," said his friend. "I've never tried."

"I wonder what they're talking about."

"I don't know. How about you try, Albus?"

Albus crawled towards the snake, unafraid, knowing from what Nurse had said to him that this one wasn't dangerous - it was only the stripy ones with Vs on their heads he had to be scared of. He tried making snake noises at it but he didn't understand what it said in reply and Thom snarled at him to go away. Albus scuttled back to his friend, disappointed.

"I couldn't do it."

"Doesn't matter. Boring, anyway. Thom's just like that."

Albus cocked his head at Thom, who had resumed his chat with the snake. "He's queer."

For some reason, his friend seemed to find that funny. He laughed and laughed and eventually Albus started laughing too, until both were rolling hysterically in the grass, the original meaning of the joke entirely lost. Only afterwards did Albus remember to check to see if anyone had been watching - he knew that it would look very strange for him to be laughing his head off at thin air.

In spite of his best efforts, however, his friend was not quite as secret as he should have been. Several times, Nurse caught him playing with someone she couldn't see and a few times, Albus had looked up to see Mother staring at him in consternation. Once, Father had sat unnoticed on the garden bench for an hour and Albus had seen him far too late. The look on his face had made his heart sink and caused Thom to again imply some difference in affections between Mother and Father.

Another secret Albus actually managed to keep was his friendship with Samuel Lupin. Father was too pleased at Albus's willingness to go the park to question it and Nurse made no protest when Albus played with Samuel. She watched them with a blank look on her face and never said a word to either Mother or Father. Albus was silently grateful for this. There was some unshaped idea in his head that Nurse was somehow risking something by not making a fuss but he could not sort it out enough to make sense of it. Mrs Lupin had never been cold to him again and there was the unspoken agreement between all three parties that neither boy could ever be invited around the other's house.

Time passed. Fawkes often flew off and left him on his own but now the boy trusted the phoenix to come back and happily settled down with his books or played as discretely as he could with his special friend. Albus worked hard at his lessons with Professor Wood and received plenty of praise from Mother. Father remained as distant as ever on the subject of Professor Wood's lessons and Thom grew ever more acidic and vocal about it.

On some deep level, Albus was finding this more and more disturbing. He did not consciously understand why but his efforts to impress Father grew ever more drastic and desperate. He read books that were considered big for his age and applied himself so vigorously to his lessons that Professor Wood eventually made him take a break and have a glass of water during one lesson. He drew pictures of his family, particularly Father, and showed Father them in the hope that he would be pleased. Thinking perhaps that he was not being polite enough, he became very quiet around Father, remembering how he sometimes annoyed Fawkes by talking too much. Yet Thom continued to assure him of his failure.

He did not understand it - how Thom somehow managed to take that small swell of disappointment inside him and translate it into mean, quiet little words. Thom's usually silent presence became a kind of itch on the back of his mind and he found himself going to Mother simply to obtain some sort of compliment. Yet Mother was odd these days - she wasn't very happy in the mornings and Albus vaguely thought that she was eating too much…

Fawkes watched all this with apprehension. He never heard what Thom said to Albus sometimes but knew from the way Albus bit his lip and frowned that whatever it was was making the boy unhappy. He also knew that the female Dumbledore was soon to have little time for complimenting Albus.

One day, when Albus could proudly boast that he was five and a half, Mother and Father called the boy into the living room and sat him on the sofa. Albus could tell that something serious was happening, as Mother was smiling in that way that meant she was trying to reassure him about something. Mother took his hand and laid it on her round stomach.

"Albus, we've got something very important to tell you." She smiled at his apparent confusion. "Soon, you will have a little brother."

Albus was so shocked that for a moment, he said nothing at all. Then he asked:

"Will you buy him in a shop?"

"No, no-" Mother said, sharing an amused glance with her husband. "The baby's in here." She patted his hand on her stomach.

The look on Albus's face was priceless. Maria fought laughter as Albus stared with big eyes at her belly. Ulfin was too busy gazing hungrily at her stomach to notice Albus's expression.

"When he's born and a bit older, you will be able to play with him," assured Maria.

Albus considered this, then grinned. "A little brother!" he said breathlessly. Then he stopped, a small frown on his face. "He won't be nasty, will he? Only, in my book, the King's brother-"

Mother laughed. "No, Albus, he'll be a nice little brother."

"Good!" said Albus and he hugged Mother, feeling very excited. He wished his little brother would come now!

He walked out of the living room, beaming, to be confronted by Thom. Thom's lips were twisted in a sneer.

"They're getting another boy," he said quietly. "Because you went wrong. Mother doesn't like you any more."

Albus blinked, startled at this new way of looking at it. Something trembled inside him. Once again, Thom had managed to articulate that slight pang in his heart.

**A/N: Following on from what I was saying earlier in a vague explanation of what I have done and why… Firstly, Fawkes's modern language is intact. There's absolutely no good reason for it but I'm afraid I simply can't imagine this version of him being formal at all. Just an idiosyncrasy of mine (as in, I have no excuse). Secondly, I imagine the wizarding world to be slightly more advanced in attitude than the Muggle one. All I know about Victorian times is how husbands ruled over their wives completely. In the wizarding world, I imagine the whole gender debate to be long over with - but with traditional stereotypical roles still intact. This means that Maria is nowhere near as submissive as she should be for the time frame… What I have done and will do, however, is include oldy colloquialisms such as 'queer' (which, I hope, most people know once had a different meaning) and 'lads…' Reviewers, tell me if I overdo it or underdo it or whether I'm being plain inaccurate! Thanks again!**


	10. Aberforth And Thom

A/N: Enjoy.

Autumn gradually passed into winter and Albus was woken up one chilly morning by the warm weight Fawkes on his face. The phoenix, now having regained his full plumage, had tried to wake the boy up by screeching in his ear but that had failed, so he had resorted to sitting on Albus's head. Albus gasped and choked and waved his arms about so that the phoenix had to skitter backwards over the duvet to avoid being hit.

"It's just me!" squawked Fawkes indignantly. "Calm down!"

Albus relaxed. "I'm tired. I don't want to get up now."

"Oh," said the phoenix casually. "I just thought you might have wanted to know that your mother's been taken to hospital."

Albus sat up so suddenly in bed that Fawkes instinctively fluttered away to land on the window sill. The boy stared at him, face pale and anxious. "Why? What's wrong with her?"

"She's having your brother," said Fawkes reassuringly, accepting that perhaps it had been a bit cruel to tell the boy his mother had been rushed to hospital without giving a reason. "Hopefully he won't be as repulsive as you."

He didn't hold out much hope. Just when Albus had got past the screeching stage, here came along another child to disturb him.

"Am I?"

Fawkes glanced back at Albus. The boy was sitting up in bed, hair all over the place, looking nervous and somewhat miserable. The phoenix felt something stir in him, something telling him he should comfort Albus.

"Are you what?"

"Am I really… repulsive?" Albus's eyes had gone big again. The phoenix found that he did not have the power to look into them.

"Uh - well," Fawkes blustered. For several moments, it seemed to him that Albus had been placed on the earth specifically with the purpose of embarrassing him. He certainly found the boy repulsive - staying with him was obviously a chore - even in spite of the fluffy orange hair and big innocent blue eyes and the way the child seemed genuinely concerned whenever he had his Burning Day - even then, Albus was still… Well, perhaps not as much as other humans - but still quite disgusting - even though said _wretched, wretched child was gazing sadly at him with sapphire tear-rimmed eyes…_

"Er - no, well, not really," the phoenix found himself saying in a small voice. He told himself that he was being an idiot but this inner message was not very emphatic as he saw Albus brighten slightly, his mouth turning up at the corners.

The boy drew his knees up so that his arms encircled them and then rocked backwards and forwards slightly. Thom's words had come back into his brain.

"Thom said that Mother is having a baby because I went wrong," he said quietly.

Fawkes felt almost angry at Albus for persisting to act like some wizard version of Oliver Twist and manipulating that silly side of his heart that wanted him to fly to Albus's shoulder and nuzzle the side of the boy's head. _This is ridiculous. There's something wrong with me. A five-year-old is brainwashing me._

"Thom's a git, Albus. Your mother is having a baby because, for some absurd reason, she likes babies." He managed to keep the tone sufficiently sarcastic to prevent the boy from doing something irritating, like hugging him. Yet as he said it, he couldn't help but think that what Thom had said might hold a grain of truth. He knew Ulfin Dumbledore wanted a 'real boy.'

"Thank you, Fawkes," said Albus softly. Fawkes felt like screaming. "Please… could you sing me a song, like how you did when you met me?"

Fawkes was faced with another dilemma. "Ah - well - Albus, I'm not a stupid little songbird!" He drew himself up with dignity.

"No…but _please-"_

Unable to admit it to anyone, Fawkes opened his mouth and began to sing. Albus sat listening in mute horror. The jarring travesty of a melody caused a bird outside to plummet out of the sky and the boy's ears hurt from the maddened screeching. Once the carnage was over, there was a long silence, almost sacred for its lack of sound.

Fawkes turned his back on Albus so that he faced out of the window. _Damn little nitwit, why'd you have to ask me that! _The phoenix's first impulse was to fly out of the open window and never return.

"Fawkes," said Albus slowly, too young to know the meaning of the word 'tact,' "that was awful."

The phoenix stretched out his wings and the boy realised that he'd upset him. Fawkes, meanwhile, felt as though he'd burst into flame from sheer mortification.

"Wait!" cried out Albus desperately. "I'm sorry! Your song-"

"-Was dreadful," finished Fawkes sharply, still not looking at the boy. "I can't sing," he admitted bitterly, shuffling and hunching his wings.

Albus was suddenly standing beside the window ledge so that the phoenix could no longer avoid looking at him. Albus's eyes were round and his expression was contrite.

"When you're older, you _will _be able to sing," said Albus so confidently that Fawkes almost believed him. "Like how I can't do magic now - but I will, one day."

Fawkes stared at him and then gave the boy an affectionate nip on the ear before flying out of the window.

* * *

Father was gone with Mother for most of the day but returned in the evening to inform Albus properly that his baby brother had been born. Albus, who'd been interrupted at dinner with Nurse, had never seen Father look so delighted. Father's eyes were sparkling and he was grinning like a maniac. 

"Albus, you have a new baby brother," he announced impressively. "He's a strong, healthy little lad and we've named him Aberforth Geraint Unferth Robert Dumbledore." **(1)**

"When can I see him, Father?" asked Albus, now feeling considerably more enthusiastic about the idea of a brother than he had that morning.

"You shall see him tomorrow," said Father happily. Then he walked away, exclaiming, "Two sons! Two sons!"

The very next day, Albus was taken in a Thestral drawn carriage to the hospital, being too young to be trusted with either Floo powder or a broom. Albus had never been so nervous or excited. He had never been so far away from home before and he watched the streets zoom past from out the window. He was about to meet Aberforth and he felt a combination of enthusiasm and apprehension about it. Thom's words had aroused an odd feeling of somehow being competed against and yet at the same time there was also the vague sensation of having gained some sort of unfamiliar responsibility - it went without saying for Albus that he would have to look after his brother.

Father led him by the hand into the hospital and up what seemed an infinite number of steps. The hospital was a blur of movement and sound that was almost overwhelming for Albus - he wanted to go home and curl up in the library with a book about good wizards fighting dragons instead. Luckily, things became quieter when Father got to the right floor and they entered a ward.

First of all, Albus saw his mother. He let out a cry of relief and ran at her, arms wide for an embrace. Mother hugged him but Father scolded him and told him not to worry Mother. He looked anxiously at Mother, to see that although she was pale and seemed exhausted, she was smiling. He then looked around for his sibling.

Baby Aberforth was lying asleep in a crib nearby, which explained why Mother and Father were speaking in hushed voices. Albus tiptoed up to the crib and looked down at his brother.

Aberforth was small and pink but - although Albus wasn't to know this - bigger than Albus had been and seemed a little healthier. Dark fuzz decorated the top of his head. Dark eyelashes were set against creamy skin. Albus, not being old enough to appreciate babies, felt slightly disappointed.

Just as he was thinking this, Aberforth stirred and opened his eyes. He took one look at Albus and instantly screwed up his face and wailed. Albus couldn't help but have a brief sensation of impending doom.

It was only when Aberforth had been brought home, however, that this feeling seemed justified. Aberforth's relentless screaming kept Albus from sleeping for almost a week. He stumbled around looking pale and tired and when he did manage to get to sleep, he suffered from nightmares about monsters that screamed. On its own, this problem would not have been much but Albus could not help remembering Thom's words.

Mother was having less and less time for him. Whenever Albus went to her, she was always holding Aberforth, feeding Aberforth, rocking Aberforth to sleep, singing to Aberforth and talking about Aberforth so that soon Albus had a small swell of resentment whenever he heard his brother's name. Once, Albus had run to her with more comments from Professor Wood about how well he was doing but in his glee, he had accidentally woken Aberforth and had received such a scolding from his mother that he'd hidden in his room for the rest of the afternoon.

Fawkes would have warned the boy against making the mistake - but Albus took, or attempted to take refuge in his father. He followed Father around the house and danced in front of Father with good words from Professor Wood - but Father did not seem to care at all. He became irritated by the way Albus was following him around and told him rather sharply to 'go back to his books.' Obediently, Albus went to the library but for some undefined reason in his young mind, he did not want to be there when Father had told him to go there in such a hard tone.

Things did not improve as the months passed. Even Nurse turned her attentions away from him to the new baby. Then he felt the bitter taste of betrayal when Father no longer wanted him to go the park. Father came into the library one day.

From the look on his face, Albus knew he was in trouble. He was scared at how thunderous Father's face was and his book fell from limp hands.

"Nurse has told me that you have been playing with someone I specifically told you not to go near," said Father in a quiet, dangerous voice. "I told you not to go near any mudbloods. I told you that the Lupin boy was a mudblood. What do you mean by disobeying me?"

Albus didn't answer. Terror had closed his throat.

Father spat the words. "I asked _what do you mean by it?"_

"But-" began Albus, trying to find the words to struggle against this adult law that threatened to sever his friendship with Samuel, trying to articulate the exhaustingly abstract idea that mudbloods weren't bad after all. It was the wrong way to begin.

Father crossed the room in one stride. He drew his wand. Albus sat, terrified, in his chair, mesmerised by the movement of that awful wand, symbol of an adult power he could not yet comprehend.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Father barked.

Albus let out a little cry as he was lifted up into the air by an invisible power. He was so frightened that he just hung there, teeth chattering. Father drew back his wand and cried another incantation before thrusting the wand forward in a violent movement.

SMACK!

Albus gave a howl as the spell hit him. It felt as though he had been hit with a belt buckle. Father did it again and again. Soon, Albus was crying piteously, bruises forming all over his small body. Finally, he was dropped back to the ground with a bump. Father said harsh words that he didn't take in, about mudbloods, and departed after giving the sobbing boy a look of contempt.

Fawkes arrived back from a foraging trip to find Albus crying quietly on the floor of the library. He forgot his resolution to maintain distance at all times and swooped down next to the boy, to say soothing words. Albus eventually sat up and explained what had happened in a trembling voice.

"F-Father b-beat me with h-his m-magic," he whimpered. "B-Because of S-Samuel…" He sniffled and then burst out, young mind on fire with confusion, "but Samuel's n-not b-bad! Mudbloods can't b-be all bad! Because S-Samuel-"

"Hush, it's all right," soothed Fakes - though he didn't really know about how to go about this comforting thing at all. The memory of the moment he'd decided to Bond with Albus came back to him. _This boy will rise up above the deception and throw it down. _Yet he still did not see how. He decided to say nothing about the incident - saying anything might damage what was being shaped…

Albus's sixth birthday passed in the shadow of Father's beating. Mother sang him Happy Birthday and he received a few presents in the morning but from breakfast onwards, his birthday was seemingly ignored. Father did not even look at him. His special friend did not appear and so was not even present.

It was, however, Thom, who was the final straw. Thom seemed to like to remind Albus of his misery and throw it in his face. He was now whispering nasty things to Albus everyday. It became a ritual for Albus to sit in his bedroom, hugging his knees on his bed, whilst Thom talked about how Father didn't like him and how Mother liked Aberforth more and how he was stupid and weird and how Samuel probably hadn't even liked him anyway.

"Father doesn't like you. Father doesn't want you," hissed Thom one afternoon. "You're not a real wizard. He doesn't care what Professor Wood says. You're a beastly little boy. Mother has forgotten you - Aberforth is better than you are. Even your dumb bird doesn't like you. You're repulsive and he _has _to stay with you but he doesn't really want to. He'll fly away one day. It's good that Nurse told Father about your secret Samuel. He's a horrible, filthy little mudblood. He didn't like you either-"

Albus's face had crumpled. He leapt off the bed to stand in front of Thom. "You're lying! That's not true!"

"Father doesn't love you."

Albus burst into to tears. He flung himself down on the floor and put his hands over his ears to block Thom's voice out. Suddenly, his special friend was there, shouting angrily at Thom.

"Go away! Go away!" his friend was shouting and Thom glared but faded away into nothing. Then his friend was trying to talk to him, trying to comfort him, but Albus wasn't listening…

Maria opened the door to see her son curled up in a heap on the floor, sobbing bitterly. Shocked, she dropped down beside him and pulled him into her lap, hushing him and stroking his head with her hand. She rocked him, heart beating a tattoo of alarm in her body. She couldn't think what had happened to make Albus like this.

"Darling, what in Merlin's name is wrong?" she asked worriedly.

Albus buried his face in her robes and snuffled into them. He was so miserable and hurt that he just repeated what Thom had said. "Father doesn't love me."

Maria's body stiffened. Horror mixed with anger formed a ball in her throat. Ulfin had never encouraged Albus as much as he should have but how Albus had reached such a conclusion, Merlin alone knew…

"Don't be ridiculous, Albus," she said firmly and a good deal more calmly than how she felt. "Your father loves you very much. We both do."

Her horror intensified when her son raised his head from her robes and looked into her face. Albus was six years old - young, innocent, untouched by a cruel world, forever trusting in the words of parents. Why then, could she read disbelief in Albus's blue eyes? What had happened to make him disbelieve her?

"What made you think that?" she whispered.

"Thom," whimpered Albus, tired of keeping the secret.

"Is Thom your friend… your invisible friend?" she murmured, more to herself than to Albus.

Albus stood up, still sniffing. "I hate him. I never want to see him again," he said.

Maria's hand clutched tightly at his shoulder. "You tell him to go away then, Albus," she said, pulling him back to her.

Suddenly, for the first time, Maria found that she was afraid of an invisible boy.

A/N: Great. Now Albus has psychological problems and he's only six. Poor kid.

(1) - HINT: Geraint was a knight of the Round Table. Unferth was a character in the tale of Beowulf. They say a good deal about what my Aberforth is going to be like.


	11. Honourable Society

**A/N: Here's some more! Review!**

In the library, an eight-year-old with wild auburn hair and cornflower blue eyes crouched over a book, squinting slightly. Albus shifted in the armchair and narrowed his eyes but the letters still seemed a bit blurry. He leant forwards so that the tip of his long nose was almost touching the page, biting his lip.

Father had seen him squinting the other day and had demanded to know what was the matter with him. Albus had come up with some pathetic excuse about being tired and sleep still clogging his eyes. Unfortunately, he knew that the time to tell his parents about how his sight was fading was drawing nearer and nearer, looming up before him like some dark shadow. He could already see Father's disappointment.

Fawkes shifted slightly, moving his talons along the bar of metal that topped the perch that Mr Dumbledore had grudgingly had made for him. He spotted Albus squinting.

"You're going to have to tell your parents sometime," he sniffed, thinking that Albus's reluctance to acknowledge the problem was rather stupid. "Soon you'll be blundering into things."

Albus looked up from his book and sighed in a way that Fawkes thought an eight-year-old had no right to do so. "I don't want to tell them. Father…" His voice drifted away.

Fawkes couldn't help but wince inwardly at that. However irritating Albus could be, no young boy deserved to be cursed with such astuteness. He knew Albus was perfectly aware that his father was not particularly proud of him. It didn't take a genius of an observer to see that Ulfin Dumbledore was not satisfied, but it still caused a pang to realise that Albus was actually aware of it.

Albus thought of the events of previous day. The flush of mortification came back into his cheeks as he remembered it.

Father had come home with a broom. It wasn't a particularly new model and yet when Father had walked in and presented it to Albus, he'd been delighted with it. The thought that this was actually a present from Father - always a rather distant, cold figure - was enough to make him love it.

Father had made him sit on it - and that was when all good feelings had vanished. Albus had gone spinning high up in the air, immobile with terror, and had had to be fetched down with a spell. The look of disappointment on Father's face had been unbearable and Mother's supposedly comforting words about him being too young anyway had fallen flat. And then there'd been that comment Father had made - about Aberforth being very good on his toy broom.

Well, _of course, _Aberforth, at _three _years old, would be so much _better _than Albus even on a _toy _broom. And Aberforth, as Father remarked at least three times a day, was a more _outgoing _sort of boy. No, he didn't like learning the alphabet, but of course that was perfectly _normal. _Even Mother had said that Aberforth was a little more _active _than Albus had been.

Albus was an affectionate little boy and he would do anything to impress his father. Unfortunately, nothing ever seemed to work.

Fawkes was about to pursue the issue of Albus squinting when Maria Dumbledore arrived in the library, followed closely by Ulfin. He saw Albus's eyes leap to Ulfin immediately before lowering and then passing to his mother.

Mother smiled at Albus and he beamed back. Fawkes saw her eyes take himself in and he suppressed a snort. Maria Dumbledore seemed to relish his existence as proof that Albus was in fact a jewel of humanity.

"Albus," she said warmly. "Tomorrow, you will be going to London."

Albus dropped his book in excitement. London! "Why, Mother?"

"Your father and I are going to meet up with some friends and family of ours and you will come. You will meet your cousins and hopefully make many new friends."

Albus's excitement increased. He had never met any of his cousins and London, from what Father had previously said, sounded large and awe-inspiring. His smile faded slightly at Father's voice.

"You will make a good account of the Dumbledore family, Albus. You are to be polite and courteous, and will show what it means to be a Dumbledore. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Father," said Albus obediently, wishing Father would smile.

Albus spent the rest of evening pondering aloud with Fawkes, who became very sick of the idea very quickly. He eventually flew off, leaving the boy nattering to himself, though privately he resolved to accompany Albus.

* * *

The morning of the next day passed in a blur for Albus. He was ordered to put on the most expensive dress robes he had and was given a miniature cane to carry. He felt very dignified with it and kept on tapping it on the floor in what he imagined to be an imperious way. He spent several minutes drawing himself up and swirling his cloak around, giving imaginary commands to invisible house-elves. His still nameless not-quite-so-invisible friend, nicknamed Lightning by Albus for the mark on his head, seemed to find it hilarious. 

Along with Albus, Lightning had grown with Thom. Albus was quite tall for an eight-year-old and so both of his elusive companions had to look up slightly when he stood up straight. Aware of this, he stooped slightly. Albus was a gangly little boy who had unusually serious eyes and walked with a strange swinging gait due to his rapid growth - the limbs seemed to want to reach further than they could, causing his whole body to rock.

Lightning's scruffy black hair looked scruffier than ever. He was like Albus in that he was thin and pale and seemed slightly undernourished. The clothes he wore were often too big for him, emphasising this. He seemed to flourish and glow with happiness whenever Albus smiled at him - he seemed like a boy who had found little joy in life thus far and so wanted to enjoy what he could.

Thom was as moody and vindictive as ever. His strangely changing eyes were always half-narrowed and he was pale to the point of being anaemic. Auburn hair, a good deal darker than Albus's own, reached the top of his neck with apparent reluctance, thinning over the top. All in all, the trio made a skinny bunch.

"Are you going to come?" asked Albus, addressing Lightning. He had got to the point of trying to ignore Thom's presence.

"No," said Lightning sadly. "You should go and make some more friends - you won't be able to talk to me there."

"No," agreed Albus. Thom sniffed but he ignored him.

Unfortunately, this was all the conversation Albus had the time to have with Lightning, due to the frantic calls of Moopy telling him that it was time to go. In no time at all, Floo powder was being shoved into his hand and he was told to yell the name of some place he'd never even heard of before being shoved into the fireplace.

It seemed that the Floo network was not Albus's natural habitat. He stumbled out of the fireplace at the other end coughing and spluttering. The first thing he saw after opening his streaming eyes was his Father, who was giving him a quelling look. As Mother arrived behind him, Albus hastily brushed himself down and suppressed the coughing and looked around.

They had arrived in some sort of Entrance Hall. The floor was of the finest marble and Albus could see vast double-doors looming over a richly embroidered rug. However, Albus barely noticed the actual setting as he was overwhelmed by the number of people milling around. Like the Dumbledores, they were all dressed in their very best robes; the men dark and regal and the women dripping and jewellery and gauze, seeming like jewels themselves. Albus was immediately struck by the aura of dignity and felt rather nervous. Everyone was talking quietly, in polite, formal voices that made him want to scream. Beyond the small crowd, Albus could see the entrance to a large hall that seemed to be filled with even more people.

He nervously shuffled his feet and subtly placed himself nearer to Mother as Father began talking to a pale wizard with silver-blond hair. Mother had begun to chat to a thin woman with blue eyes and a sharp face. Albus, confused as to what he was meant to be doing, looked around - to see someone watching him.

A boy who looked to be about his age was standing beside the wizard Father was talking to. The boy had the same silver-blond hair that was long in the style of the day and the same cold blue eyes as the woman and was standing in a way that seemed almost as though he'd been posed beforehand. One hand was held lightly on top of a miniature cane and he seemed drawn up slightly, with a poise that was strongly reminiscent of the adult wizards standing nearby. Albus realised belatedly that the boy was shorter than him but this didn't decrease the image of power and dignity standing before him.

The boy's intense blue gaze was met very reluctantly by Albus. There was a moment in which both boys simply stared at each other. Then the boy smiled thinly and stepped forward, holding his hand out.

"Hello. I'm Septimus Tiberius Malfoy."

Albus blinked and clasped the proffered hand and shook it, feeling somehow out of depth. "I'm Albus Percival Wulferic Brian Dumbledore." Something stirred in his memory. "Are we not cousins?"

"Indeed," said Septimus and he seemed cast a shrewd, calculating look over Albus. He nodded at Albus's parents. "Are they your mother and father?"

"Yes," said Albus. He did not know what to say. Luckily, Septimus seemed to have more than enough to say.

"I've been wanting to come to one of these since Father told me about them," he said, twirling his cane in what Albus couldn't help but see as a frighteningly sophisticated gesture. "The last time, I was too young."

"One of what?" asked Albus, feeling like a clueless toddler in the face of such maturity. Septimus gave him an astonished, pitying look.

"By Merlin, don't you know?" he exclaimed. Fawkes, from his perch outside one of the high windows, could tell that the boy had obviously picked this up from his father. "I thought everyone knew! How dreadful. Well," he began in a tone of utmost superiority, "this is the second-largest gathering of purebloods in Britain. No filthy blood here!"

Albus, who still didn't really understand the significance of blood at all, was at a loss as to what to say to this. Obviously, there was some importance to this - hopefully he would understand soon. "Oh…" he said weakly.

At that moment, Father jerked his head at Albus and he realised that everyone seemed to be moving off into the hall. Septimus's parents were also leaving and the two boys followed. As they entered the hall, sweet music met Albus's ears and he spotted a small band of musicians playing in a corner. The hall was filled with chairs and there was a small, makeshift stage up front. People were busy finding seats and Albus found himself steered into a seat beside Septimus, with Father on the other side of him.

The musicians stopped playing as everyone settled and Albus was forced to stop looking around at what seemed a vast multitude of people when he became aware that Septimus's father had gotten up on stage to some applause. Next to him, Septimus was watching his father avidly with apparent pride. Albus looked more closely at Mr Malfoy.

Ulfin Dumbledore's cousin was an immediate hint as to where Septimus had got his poise from. The man had an unmistakeable sense of both presence and taste. One got the feeling that he could have stood there dressed in rags and yet still have commanded respect. Nevertheless, he had a hard face and Albus hoped he would never have to speak to the man.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began importantly. "Esteemed colleagues, old friends - may I say how privileged I feel to be apart of the Honourable Society of Walpurgis and to be in such company."

This statement was met by much applause, with especially enthusiastic clapping from Septimus, but Albus didn't see what all the fuss was about. What was the Honourable Society of Walpurgis?

"I am glad to see you all once again and flattered by your support in my bid to be Minister. We will approach the coming election with a staunch faith in traditional values, a remembrance of proud ancestry and a respect for our noble heritage. Let us not be corrupted by this lack of deference for true wizards that is sadly pervading our government. May I quote that wonderful Black family motto 'toujours pur' in this."

There was a cheer from a family of wizards to the far left on the stage and more applause. Mr Malfoy smiled indulgently. Albus didn't understand what was being said but he thought it sounded rather grand. Septimus seemed spellbound.

"My fellow purebloods, let us right this injustice in our system, this growing disregard for old values. Why, it is this very lack of reverence that has led to this dreadful situation today. Will there be no haven for wizards in the future? Let us think of the number of towns which once housed only our blessed kind but now hold all manner of filth - Muggles no less! Our Honourable Society shall not stand for it-"

Albus felt himself getting rather bored. The adults all seemed to be getting rather excited but he couldn't understand what the man was saying and wondered how long it all go on for. Mother and Father both seemed rapt and alert - it did not look as though they would be leaving any time soon.

"-A government infiltrated by the impure wonders at the rise in crime levels when they are surrounded by mud bloods and half-breeds-"

Albus looked around at Septimus. The boy was still gazing at his father with a fierce pride. Albus couldn't help wondering whether the reaction would be any different if his father started gibbering like a ghoul.

"-I would like to thank my good friend and cousin Ulfin Dumbledore for this valuable insight into the faults of the current system-"

There was polite applause all around and Albus's father smiled and waved a hand, as if to say that it had been nothing much at all.

"-And Professor Cassius Lestrange, Hogwarts Headmaster, for his kind donations to-"

Albus's ears pricked up. Mother had told him about Hogwarts, many times. His eyes searched for the headmaster of this fabled school. He found him just as the said headmaster got to his feet and gave an elegant bow to the applause directed at him. Albus stared at him, somehow trying to discern something about the school from the appearance of its headmaster.

Professor Lestrange was a moderately tall man with a pointed nose and lank brown hair. His face was sharp and angular and he was dressed in entirely black robes. The golden Hogwarts seal hung around his neck made him look somewhat like a mayor.

"So - how many years have you been teaching the little scallywags, Cassius?" asked Mr Malfoy jokingly.

Professor Lestrange laughed softly, in a way that Albus didn't really like. "Seven years - right since Phineas Nigellus retired. I like to think I've made an impact."

"Ah yes - oh, my fellow members - we have much to thank Professor Lestrange for, quite apart from donations. Only his concern for the moral life of his students has prevented our children from attending his school with muggle-borns."

There was a shudder that ran round the room and more applause was directed at the headmaster as he sat down. Albus again didn't understand and wished more than ever that he could go home. Eventually, however, all speech-making ended and suddenly everyone was moving outside into the cold, grey morning, down an impressive flight of marble steps.

"Where are we going?" Albus asked Mother as she took Father's arm and went with the crowd.

"To the Illusionartum, Albus," said Mother, not bothering to explain what the Illusionartum was. "Now - get in the carriage with the other children."

Albus realised that a large number of thestral-drawn carriages had arrived and that people were climbing into them. The thestrals were disguised as horses for the journey through the non-wizarding part of London and all the carriages were black and unmarked. One had stopped right in front of him and seemed filled with children his own age. There was a barely perceptible push from behind from Mother and he was thrust into the carriage, the door banging shut behind him. He sat down, to find himself surrounded by cold, curious eyes.

SPOILERS-SPOILERS-SPOILERS -warning, do not go below unless you have read book 6.

* * *

... 

May I say how depressed I was with book 6! I can't believe what Snape did and how my favourite character past away! I refuse to believe he was betrayed! I refuse, I say!


	12. Annoyed

****

A/N: Reviewers are truly kings and queens on earth.

Alexis on - Thanks very much:p to you too, lol!

****

AnnaK82 - Thanks for the review… and, um, so am I, bearing in mind that I have only a vague plan.

Septimus Malfoy was a point of recognition in a sea of the unknown. Albus glanced at him first before turning his eyes on the other children.

A large, rather heavily-built boy dominated the small space, dark hair plastered to his head and the cane looking like a twig in his large hand. Next to him sat a girl with hard green eyes and long brown hair, who was primly holding her robes off the grimy floor. On the boy's other side was another large boy with black, bristly short hair who seemed slightly overweight. On the opposite side of the carriage, where Septimus was sitting, was another slim girl whose sandy locks were done up in a complicated hairstyle and who wore so much jewellery even her tender age as to appear overdone. Next to Septimus was a small, sickly-looking boy who had greasy black hair and a rather prominent nose. All eyes were fixed on Albus.

"Dumbledore," said Septimus calmly, patting a space next to him. Albus wondered why Septimus had addressed him with his last name but stumbled over and sat next to him as the carriage began to move.

"This is Albus Dumbledore, my second cousin," Septimus said lazily to the others, twirling his cane idly. Albus was somewhat relieved to see that they, too, seemed slightly in awe of how grown up Septimus seemed. Malfoy was then gesturing at the large boy with the dark hair. "This is Magnus Bulstrode-"

Magnus smiled, or rather, leered at Albus. "Hello."

The girl with long brown hair broke in before Septimus could say anything. "I'm Priscilla Nott." She held out a hand, palm down, to Albus.

Albus stared at it, mystified. What was he meant to do?

Priscilla pouted. "Well, kiss it then! Manners!"

Albus blinked and politely kissed the back of her hand, even more nervous that he was before. Only adults did this sort of thing! Was he expected to be this sophisticated all the time?

Septimus smiled. "And this is Fitzwilliam Crabbe," he said, gesturing at the fat boy, who blinked dimly and gave Albus a look that showed that he didn't have a clue what was happening. Septimus then nodded at the golden-haired girl. "This is Juliet Avery-"

Juliet held out her hand for Albus to kiss it and giggled when he did. "Dumbledore! Did you see the headmaster?"

"Yes," said Albus and he was going to say that he didn't think he looked very nice when Septimus interrupted.

"I did! I shook his hand after the speech, too. He's a friend of my father." He drew himself up and the others looked impressed.

"I say, didn't he look awfully grand!" exclaimed Juliet. "I hope he's still there when we go!"

"Of course he'll still be there," said Priscilla importantly. "I _was _going to go to Durmstrang but my father thinks Hogwarts is the best since that man-"

"-Professor Lestrange-" said Septimus helpfully.

"-Became headmaster."

"I jolly well hope I'm in Slytherin," announced Septimus. "The other houses sound rotten."

"'Slytherin?'" repeated Magnus questioningly.

"Father told me there are four houses - and Slytherin's one of them. Apparently it's the only one without any horrid mudbloods." Septimus sat up slightly. "Have you all done magic yet? _I _have. I made my dinner vanish last year."

"Ooh," said Priscilla excitedly. "I have! Only a month ago but it was still brilliant! I set one of the house-elves on fire and I was laughing my head off!"

Albus thought of Moopy and didn't think that sounded very pleasant but before he even considered saying anything, Fitzwilliam Crabbe grunted and made to speak for the first time. Albus had been wondering whether he could talk.

"Yes. Last year - made a cake fly."

Juliet sniggered. "Well, about three months ago - on my birthday - some stupid house-elf put only five candles on my cake. I was so angry with it - I did magic and threw it out the window!"

The other children dissolved into fits of glee. Albus didn't. He sat stiffly, feeling out of place and not getting the joke at all. He thought house-elves were funny and didn't like the idea of one being thrown out the window. The only other person not laughing was the dark boy next to Septimus who hadn't been introduced yet - he seemed paralysed with nervousness.

Septimus suddenly nudged the boy, making him jump. "What about you, Snape?" He seemed to realise that he hadn't told Albus his name. "Oh - this is Sileas Snape, by the way. Well - have you done magic? You're not a stupid Squib, are you?"

Sileas shook his head violently. "No - when I was six - I fell out of a tree and sort of floated down," he said quietly. Septimus didn't look very impressed.

Meanwhile, something cold seemed to have descended into Albus's stomach. The realisation that everybody present had done magic except him made him want to vomit. He knew Mother and Father had been watching him for some signs of magic for some time now but it hadn't seemed very urgent until now. What if _he _was a Squib? What if that was why Father didn't like him - because he was a Squib and would never be able to do magic? What if…

"Dumbledore - what about you?" asked Septimus. Everyone turned and looked at him.

Albus wanted very much to fade away and become invisible. "Y-Yes-" he lied, desperate not to be called a 'stupid Squib.'

"What?" demanded Juliet interestedly.

"Er - I - I did the same as Sileas-" said Albus weakly. He felt sick: he knew lying was wrong and, already, guilt was rising up within him like a fire.

"Oh…" said Septimus disappointedly, as if he thought any cousin of his should be a lot more capable than that. The others didn't look too impressed either.

Albus felt horrified. Not only had he lied and was afraid that he was indeed a Squib but these new children didn't seem to like him. In his desperation, a wonderful idea occurred to him. He could tell the truth!

"And I made a phoenix come to me," he said loudly.

The effect was as desired. Septimus Malfoy's head snapped up and he stared at Albus in awed disbelief. Juliet Avery let out a cry of excitement, Magnus Bulstrode's eyes widened and Priscilla Nott's mouth dropped open. Fitzwilliam Crabbe simply goggled at Albus and Sileas Snape regarded him with something close to fear.

"Really?" gasped Juliet.

"Yes," said Albus proudly. He fiddled with his cane in what he thought was a very adult way and sat up straight. "He only likes _me_," he added, to see Septimus's eyes go round in amazement.

"You're lying," Septimus accused him.

With the utmost confidence, Albus shook his head. "He comes when I call."

"Very well," challenged Juliet. "Call him, then!"

Albus was taken aback at this but not really worried. Fawkes did indeed come when he called. He made a beckoning gesture in the air mainly for the benefit of his audience and called out Fawkes's name in his head.

"Fawkes!" he called aloud as well.

Fawkes utterly failed to appear.

"Fawkes!" Albus called again, worriedly.

Again, the phoenix was conspicuously absent.

Albus stared at the empty air, dismayed. Why wasn't Fawkes coming? Had he really flown away, like Thom had always said he would. Was it because he was really a Squib?

Septimus sniffed and cast Albus a contemptuous look. "See. He was lying," he told the others, who all laughed or looked pointedly away from Albus.

Albus's heart seemed to sink into his shoes. He leant back into the shadows and gazed out of the window, watching the drizzle-swept streets go by. A very nasty thought, even nastier than anything he'd thought before, struck him. What if Fawkes _couldn't _come? What if the phoenix was injured somehow and Albus had no way of helping him?

The little boy bit his lip and was silent for the rest of the journey. When the carriage finally stopped, Septimus pushed him on his way out so that Albus nearly fell down into a muddy puddle.

Mother found him and grabbed him by the arm and steered him, with the rest of the crowd, into a building that Albus could only assume was the Illusionartum. Inside, it was dim and dark, making it especially hard for Albus to see. Twice he blundered into people, to receive exasperated looks from Father, before being forced into one of the many padded seats in front of a large stage. To his horror, he was made to sit next to Septimus, who pointedly ignored him and turned to speak to Magnus. Even when the show had started, he couldn't quite forget Fawkes and the trouble he could be in. 

Normally, Albus would have been held spellbound by the show. Two extravagantly dressed wizards went on stage and began casting complicated illusions. It was remarkably realistic and beautiful and timed to stirring orchestral music. The splendid illusions depicted everything from forest scenes to dragons in telling the story of Merlin. Albus was indeed fascinated as soon as he realised whom it was about but Fawkes was always in the back of his mind as the audience was half-lit with radiant colours and the orchestral music made the chairs shake.

Albus then had to return to the carriage with the other children and endured another journey in which Septimus made snide comments about liars and the other children ignored him and talked about things he didn't understand. The conversation eventually moved around to mudbloods. Septimus told the story Albus had heard from his father, about Muggles trying to kill wizards and the others nodded gravely.

"I wouldn't go near a mudblood for anything," declared Septimus, who had now been demoted simply to 'Malfoy' in Albus's mind.

"They're filthy," hissed Juliet in agreement. "They probably can't even do magic right."

"There's a really _awful _one near where I live," said Malfoy, face wrinkled in apparent disgust. "His name's Lupin and he's a nasty little-"

The memory of a small boy called Samuel was suddenly called to the forefront of Albus's mind. Distant, poignantly painful images of himself and Samuel playing in the park and then of Father banning him from ever seeing Samuel again played inside his head. Albus felt a hot surge of anger. Father was wrong about Samuel. Perhaps a lot of mudbloods were bad but Samuel wasn't. Father was wrong because he'd made a mistake; Malfoy was just wrong.

"No, he's not," interrupted Albus, disliking Malfoy more and more every minute.

Malfoy blinked, as if he couldn't believe that Albus had dared to interrupt him. "Not what?"

"Not nasty."

Malfoy's eyes widened again. Juliet and Priscilla were looking at Albus in outrage. Magnus and Fitzwilliam frowned at him and even Sileas, who hadn't said a word since his explanation about how he'd done magic, seemed shocked. Albus found himself not caring very much.

"You _like _mudbloods?" gasped Malfoy.

"How _could _you?" demanded Priscilla angrily.

"No!" blurted Albus. "I don't like mudbloods! But Samuel's not bad!"

"_All _mudbloods are bad, you stupid little house-elf!" Malfoy argued, obviously appalled that anyone could contradict him. "You're a blood traitor!"

"No I'm not!" shouted Albus, sick with worry about Fawkes and thoroughly fed up of Malfoy. "But Lupin isn't-"

"How could you _like _a mudblood?" asked Juliet in astonishment. "They're _filth!"_

"Samuel's not filth!" roared Albus.

"Yes he is!" screamed Malfoy back.

Luckily, the carriage ground to a halt and Albus leapt out, burning with hatred for Malfoy. Unfortunately, the day was not over. Everyone crowded back into the hall where the speeches had taken place to find it full of tables set with cutlery and food. Albus found himself sitting opposite Sileas, who said nothing but watched Albus warily over the top of the salad between them. Albus ignored him and rammed down his food, not feeling hungry at all.

Mother and Father ate slowly and Albus was forced to wait until they had eaten up all their roast chicken and drunken all their wine before the moment to leave finally arrived. Ulfin Dumbledore shook hands with Mr Malfoy and Maria exchanged pleasantries with Persephone Malfoy. Septimus glared at Albus and he turned his back on him. When his parents went to the nearest fireplace to Floo home, Albus followed.

"Albus!" exclaimed Maria, shocked at her usually courteous son's impoliteness. "Say goodbye to your cousin!"

Albus whipped around and met Malfoy's eyes. "Goodbye," he said firmly, in the way that meant he never wanted to say hello to Malfoy ever again.

Malfoy said the same word in exactly the same tone before Albus leaped into the fireplace and went thankfully home. Once there, the problem of Fawkes came back to him. He ran up to his bedroom without waiting for Moopy to hang his travelling cloak up, hoping to see Fawkes sat on the windowsill, but no such welcome sight met his eyes.

Despairingly, Albus sat down his bed and gazed out of the window, wanting to see a golden blur in the blue sky but again having his wish denied. As he heard his parents greeting Aberforth and taking him from Nurse downstairs, the terrifying thought of Fawkes being dead came to him and he looked down, biting his lip again and close to tears.

He sat there for a while, struggling against tears, before a familiar voice met his ears. He looked up.

"Albus," said Fawkes sternly, sat on the windowsill as though he'd always been there.

Albus let out a cry of delight and jumped off his bed to pull Fawkes into his arms. To his surprise, Fawkes let out a harsh squawk and pecked at his arm painfully. He let go at once and Fawkes settled down on the windowsill once more. The phoenix was clearly not pleased with him.

"Albus," said Fawkes coldly. "I don't like liars."

Albus opened his mouth in alarm but Fawkes continued talking, looking away from the boy as he did. "I especially don't like boastful little brats who say that they 'called a phoenix to them.' I didn't come because you _asked. _I came because I wanted to."

Albus made a small noise, about to say something, but the phoenix cut across him, glaring at him with fierce golden eyes.

"What do you think I am, Albus?" he asked softly. "I'm not some special _pet _of yours that you can use to show off with! Do you think that I would have Bonded with you if I'd known you were a boastful, vain little liar who would use me as a way of impressing other little brats? Do you?"

Fawkes saw the boy pale and his eyes go round but looked away again and went on.

"If you keep on being like that, then I'm afraid I _will _have to fly away."

Fawkes gazed at the ceiling, listening for a reaction. There was a silence. Fawkes looked down, to see an auburn head bowed, a limp body in a slouched sitting posture on the bed and a pair of clasped hands. The phoenix wondered if the boy was sulking. Then he saw blood running down one of the boy's arms and felt guilty - he hadn't meant to peck Albus that hard.

"I'm sorry," said a low voice suddenly. "I… Please don't fly away."

Fawkes couldn't see the boy's face and so had no idea as to whether Albus was really being sincere or not. He fluttered down onto the bed to get a good view. To his surprise, Albus's face was shining with tears and the watery blue eyes were turned resolutely away from Fawkes; aimed at the floor. The phoenix was wrong-footed - he didn't think he'd been that hard on Albus and wondered whether he'd hurt him with his beak more than he'd realised.

"You're well, though - aren't you?" gulped Albus, still not looking at him.

"Well?" repeated Fawkes confusedly. "Yes… Why did you ask me that?"

"I - I thought you were h-hurt, when you didn't come," explained Albus tearfully, not daring to look at Fawkes.

Fawkes was so taken aback that, at first, he didn't say a word. Then he said, "Hold out your arm."

Albus blinked and turned his eyes back to the phoenix, bewildered. Hesitantly, he stuck out an arm.

"The one that's bleeding," said the phoenix patiently, in a warmer voice than he'd used before. Albus held out the bleeding arm and watched in astonishment as the golden bird positioned his head over the cut and began crying thick, pearly tears.

Albus snatched back his arm and grabbed Fawkes off the bed into his lap. Fawkes screeched in surprise as Albus began lifting up his wings and examining them.

"Are you hurt?" asked Albus, panicked. "Don't cry! Perhaps Nurse can-"

"Albus, I'm all right! I was healing you!"

Albus glanced at his arm to see that the cut had vanished. He gazed at the pale skin and then glanced back at the phoenix in confusion.

"Phoenix tears can heal," said Fawkes in explanation. "I'm sorry for cutting you," he added tentatively.

"I'm sorry!" exclaimed Albus again. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have lied! I'm a beastly boy; you _should _peck me! But please don't fly away!"

Fawkes sighed. "Albus, you're _not _a beastly boy. I'm really sorry for pecking you and I didn't mean what I said about flying away. I was just annoyed at you."

Albus wiped away his tears and gave Fawkes a small smile. "I'm annoyed at me, too."

Fawkes relented and allowed Albus to hug him, rubbing his small face into the phoenix's plumage, so that the bright auburn hair seemed to become one with the bird. Then phoenix and boy then sat back and talked about the day and were united in their hatred of Malfoy, whom Fawkes said really _was _a 'beastly little boy.'

****

A/N: Next chapter - the run-up to Hogwarts!


	13. Squib

A/N: Phew! Well, I'm sorry for the wait, folks; I was in Menorca, and the computer wouldn't fit in my suitcase, LOL. However, I DID take a notebook with me and filled it up with more chapters. It's all mainly a transcription job at the mo. See notes at the end for what's coming.

Dark Angel's Blue Fire - Yes, the ending of book 6... I was very traumatised, I assure you. I had to go paintballing straight after finishing it and my friends ended up thinking I was ill, I was so depressed. And yes, because of the reasons we both know, I shall make a solid effort to continue. Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad you like it.

Gypz - Thanks! As for the future, I'm not sure, I haven't looked forward that far. Thanks again!

Greenfly - Thank you! Although this is less than immediately.

Lirulin - Thanks and yes - I think that after book 6, everyone needs counselling.

TicTacTurtle - Thanks for your continued reviews! But I shalleth doeth as you sayeth!

Opal Grimstone - Wow! Thanks! I say we light a candle for him.

**Here we go!**

The letter arrived on Albus's eleventh birthday. When he finally grasped it in white-knuckled hands, the burst of excitement that had appeared with it faded away into the heavy thudding of his heart. What little celebration his birthday had been marked with was on hold, as the significance of being eleven paled beside this letter, this message from a world that had so far - to Albus - seemed entirely imaginary.

Alone, in more ways than one, he read it through again. The words were already engraved on his mind and, as he read, his fingers tightened on the paper as though someone was about to snatch all opportunity away.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Cassius Lestrange

(Order of Merlin, Second Class, Chf. Warlock)

Dear Mr Dumbledore,

We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted for a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A list of books and equipment is enclosed.

Term begins on 2 September. Please inform us if you are unable to attend.

Yours sincerely,

Eilis McKinnon

Deputy Headmistress

Hogwarts… He was going to Hogwarts… That meant that he couldn't possibly be a Squib…

Somehow that thought failed to crush the fear sitting like a spider in his gullet.

For the past three years, Albus had remained as devoid of magic as ever. When he was eight, Mother had talked encouragingly of Hogwarts, her days spent there, her teachers, her lessons, how good a school it was meant to be, how wonderful a headmaster she'd heard Professor Lestrange was and so on and so forth… Yet, as the years passed, she'd mentioned it less and less, until there was no whisper of it at all, no word of what was absent, although the truth of it hung over the family like a silent guillotine.

Albus hated the way everyone tiptoed around the issue. Mother took a lot of care not to speak about it and whenever Father made to say anything about Hogwarts or Albus's magic, she'd hush him and glance pointedly at her son. Nurse, who followed Aberforth around like a very large, plump dog, eyed Albus strangely on occasions and he'd overheard her talking to the butler about that "odd Squib boy." The only person who was careless of this unspoken law was Aberforth, who had already displayed signs of magic despite his tender age and would often tactlessly ask about whether Albus was ever going to do any - and whenever he was bored, which was often, he would taunt his older brother about it. Although these insults were primitive at best due to Aberforth's lack of sufficient vocabulary, the inescapable truth of them made Albus go out of his way to avoid his brother. He was not the only one Albus avoided; Father's sideways glances and the slight frown that appeared on his face whenever he looked at his first-born son were unbearable.

If asked about her eldest child, Maria Dumbledore would have probably expressed a good deal of worry. She would have said that Albus was a reclusive, withdrawn boy who never went to any parties or engaged in any social activities at all.

Over time, Ulfin had relented and allowed him back to the park after extracting many promises from Albus that he would not mix with any mudbloods. However, Albus rarely went and when he did, he found no joy in it - he never saw Samuel Lupin there and, being naturally rather shy, would not approach others by himself and those other boys he met always ended up thinking he was rather odd and reserved. As for his cousins and those he had met at the Walpurgis gathering, Albus had never displayed any interest in them and when Maria had suggested that Septimus Malfoy attend his ninth birthday celebration, he had been so adamant that Septimus was not to come that she'd never suggested it again.

Maria would say all this and more - yet as she was not aware of the continued existence of Albus's invisible friends - due to the fact that Albus, anticipating the reaction, had wisely not informed her - Albus was not quite as lonely as she perceived.

As Albus stood, immobile, clutching his letter, Lightning arrived at his left shoulder, simply appearing without a sound. Lightning's thin, sharp face was softened in a grin and his emerald eyes sparkled, but there was an air of deep unhappiness about him that always seemed to bubble beneath the surface. Albus had begun to sense this over time and the pair had sought, in an agreement which transcended words, to keep this hidden misery at bay with play and laughter.

"Happy Birthday!" cried Lightning, seemingly more delighted by the event than Albus was himself. "What presents did you get? Sorry I didn't come earlier but Thom was being a prat so-" He stopped, noticing Albus's silence.

"My letter came," said Albus hoarsely in explanation.

There was a pause in which Albus knew Lightning was realising all the implications of this. This knowledge weighed him down even more and eventually his darkest thoughts were forced into words.

"I cannot go. What use is there of me going if a wand is just a stick of wood to me? What good is there of me learning spells when I won't ever be able to use them? I may as well have been born a Muggle!"

Lightning, who had always been oddly silent on the subject of magic, was biting his lip. Albus felt sorry for him - his friend clearly didn't know what to say. He was about to tell him not to bother when Lightning suddenly spoke.

"Show your parents. I mean, can't the letter be proof that you _can _go?"

Albus blinked but shook his head. "No," he sighed. "It's just more reason for Father to detest me," he muttered, more to himself than to Lightning. "This letter is a bitter reminder of everything I have failed in."

"What letter?"

Fawkes had flown in, to see his charge frozen, not by a spell, but by a piece of parchment. Albus did not answer so Fawkes flew over to perch on the windowsill, at a distance so that he could see what the letter was.

"Isn't that _good _news?" he asked, once he had read it.

"Fawkes!" Albus exclaimed hopelessly. "I think you really _should_ fly away and find someone else to stay with. How can I go to Hogwarts when I'm about as magical as a pair of socks?"

"That old problem again, is it?" Fawkes said in an irritated voice. "You either _are _a Squib or you aren't and getting all worked up about it won't make any difference."

"No, I don't suppose it will," agreed Albus sadly, thinking that Fawkes must have got fed up with the whole idea over the years.

"What's so great about this Hogwarts anyway? Sounds a real swizz to me."

"Hogwarts is the best and only magical school in Britain," said Albus quietly, wondering what 'swizz' meant.

"'The best and only?'" repeated the phoenix. "You've just contradicted yourself. How can it be the best when there's nothing to compare it to?"

"I meant that it was the best magical school anywhere… I wouldn't want to go to Durmstrang."

"Does Durmstrang accept Squibs then?"

Albus hunched his shoulders at that.

"I don't think so," he replied in a small voice.

"Can't Squibs be caretakers in such schools?"

Albus had a sudden mental vision of himself creeping around a network of stone corridors with a cat at his heels, moaning about cobwebs and getting upset over things like mud. It was a sombre image.

"If I'm a Squib, you should fly away."

Fawkes drew himself up. "'Should?' 'Should?' Don't tell me what I should and should not do, Albus! I will do whatever I want!"

Albus, however, caught the subtle message behind the empty words, and smiled at the phoenix in gratitude. It was a gesture that he felt he didn't deserve.

* * *

It was halfway through the month of August and still Albus had not displayed any magic. The fear of disappointment was now so thick upon him that the days went by in a blur of nervousness and prolonged worry. He found his eyes passing beyond the text of his books and focussing on some awful point in the future, when Father would finally have to write a letter to the headmaster saying that he could not go. Mother talked about going to Diagon Alley only to be hushed by Father, who said something about not counting dragons before they've hatched. The whole atmosphere of the house was one of urgency and tension. 

So it was, one day, that Albus climbed the highest tree in the Dumbledore estate, with intention of leaping off to kick-start his magic. He looked down from a truly dizzying height made all the worse by the angry wind to see Mother sobbing with horror, Aberforth wondering aloud whether Albus had gone mad and thought he was a bird and Father's face, white and furious, as he yelled loudly, "don't be a fool!"

Sadly, as Fawkes noted many times later on, Albus _was _a fool and, despite nearly being sick with fear, did the deed. The only thing that stopped Albus from finding an early grave was Fawkes, who caught the boy a mere few seconds before he would have become a splodge on the ground. Once Mother had stopped hugging him, Father had shouted himself hoarse and beaten him soundly for 'worrying his mother' and Albus had given up on the idea of forcing any magic out.

Three days after that disaster and a mere three weeks before Albus was due to go to Hogwarts, Aberforth came under the amused gaze of destiny. Professor Wood, in a desperate attempt to garner enough interest from Aberforth to actually teach him something, had been granted permission from Ulfin to take him to a local farm. Aberforth enjoyed the trip immensely and returned from the outing babbling on about some 'wonderful' animal - which turned out to be a goat.

"Father!" he cried, jumping up and down. Albus watched with a carefully neutral face. "I want one! I want a goat!"

"Aberforth, my son," said Ulfin, fondly but firmly, using that smile that was especially reserved for Abe forth - one that was never wasted on Albus. "You may have a Crup when you're older but not a goat. What in Merlin's name would you do with one?"

"But Father!" whined Aberforth, who was thin like Albus but had shorter, straighter and slightly more cooperative hair. "I like goats the best!"

Albus watched as Aberforth's dismay grew and grew. A smug feeling of satisfaction swept through him at the angry, upset expression on Aberforth's face and he felt the corners of his mouth twitch. Disturbed, he looked away, trying to crush the feeling unsuccessfully. He caught his reflection in the mirror in the hallway and saw the shadow of a smirk on his face. The image was so unpleasant that he felt quite ashamed and the urge to grin faded.

Having never been refused anything by Father at all, Aberforth grew more and more frustrated until it finally culminated in one of Aberforth's Special Tantrums. Anybody unlucky enough to be in the area at the time would witness a sight that was as spectacular as it was shocking. Albus always regarded his brother's tantrums with some fascination.

First, Aberforth's eyes would darken. His small lips would put. A flush would grow in his cheeks and anybody who knew the danger signs would attempt to flee. Then the boy would stand rigid, limbs shaking slightly, putting one in the mind of a horse about to bolt. Aberforth would draw the anticipation of the horror out until the subject of it was transfixed. This happened now and Albus saw one of his brother's lower eyelids twitch.

Then it happened. Aberforth released his pent up rage in a cry of fury and a surge of magic that smashed all the nearby windows. Then he flung himself down on the floor with some force and started screaming in earnest whilst beating the wood beneath him with small fists. Not being at home with words, Aberforth's last resort was always to scream until he made himself sick if necessary. Albus's little brother had made throwing a tantrum an art-form.

"Now really, stop this nonsense!" snapped Ulfin.

Aberforth paused in his screaming and regarded his father with dark, fierce eyes. "It's not nonsense!" he protested and then continued in his screaming. **(1)**

Ulfin cast a Silencing Charm and the surrounding portraits sagged in relief against their frames. Aberforth got up and stamped off, mouthing the word 'Squib' at Albus as he passed.

It was only when Aberforth failed to come to dinner and Nurse admitted that she had not seen him since the morning before Professor Wood took him away that anybody noticed something was amiss. Albus was sent to look for his brother in the garden but he wasn't there and he wasn't anywhere in the house - and that was when Maria and Ulfin began to be extremely worried.

"Don't fret, Mother, he's probably just-" Albus began hopelessly, patting Mother on the shoulder as she sat, pale, shaking and tearful, as another lost child played with Gobstones in her mind, in the drawing room whilst Father Flooed the Aurors. "Just - he'll probably be-"

He failed to come up with an explanation as to where Aberforth was and Mother dissolved into sobs of anticipated grief as Father stormed into the room with such a look of anxiety that Albus didn't recognise him for a moment. Lines that Albus had not noticed before had deepened in his father's face and his mouth seemed to have disappeared.

"I'm going around town by carriage to look for him," he said shortly. "Albus, go to the park and search for him there."

With the sight of the invulnerable made vulnerable, Albus's heart began to race too. Suddenly, he found that he very much wanted to see Aberforth having a tantrum again. He dashed outside without a travelling cloak.

Just as Albus left the manor, Fawkes flew up to him, looking irritated and worn out.

"Why's everyone rushing about like headless chickens? And what in Merlin's name is your blasted brother doing on his own, petting a goat of all things?"

"WHAT!" screeched Albus. "The little idiot-"

He changed direction and sprinted out into the countryside, towards the farm he knew Aberforth had visited earlier. He leapt over a style and promptly slipped in a puddle of mud. Muttering words he'd only ever seen in books, Albus got up to see Abe forth - as Fawkes had said - petting a small black goat.

"Aberforth!" yelled Albus angrily.

Aberforth jumped and then pouted and glared at his brother, folding his small arms. "I'm not going back," he said stubbornly. "It's not fair! You have a phoenix but I can't have a goat!"

"Aberforth, you fool," snapped Albus, feeling even more resentful of his brother than ever. "You couldn't keep a goat in the house! Mother's been worried sick!"

"I don't care!"

Albus made a grab for his brother but he darted away. He jumped forward and snatched at his arm but again Aberforth danced away, poking his tongue out.

Anger rose up within Albus and suddenly, Aberforth symbolised everything that was troubling him. Father liked Aberforth, Aberforth had magic, Aberforth would go to Hogwarts whilst Albus went to live like a Muggle… Then, without any warning whatsoever, a circle of fire suddenly sprang up around Aberforth, so that he screamed and stood shaking in the middle.

The flames roared and the smell of burning grass met Albus's nostrils. Stunned, he gazed at the glow of his own wizardry uncomprehendingly. Then he realised and let out a laugh of pure delight.

"Don't laugh!" shrieked Aberforth, terrified. "Get me out of here!"

"Fawkes, could you please-?" Albus tried and failed to suppress a grin.

Fawkes swooped down and lifted the boy from the centre of the flames, which then died down to glowing embers as if they had never been so fierce. The phoenix then turned to Albus and told to stop smiling in that "frankly maniacal and hysterical manner."

So it was that Aberforth returned to the parental bosom wailing about goats, how nasty a boy Albus was and moaning about those "horrid flames." Albus returned beaming and after the fuss over Aberforth had died down like the flames, Mother was as delighted as he was - and when Albus looked over at Father he thought he saw him smile.

(1) - Sorry, a bit of self-insertion here. Let's just say I told my nan the same thing when I was little. Don't worry, I won't do it again.

A/N: WARNING TO ALL READERS. THIS STORY MAY INCLUDE SPOILERS FROM THIS POINT ONWARDS, IN CHARACTER ANCESTRY, ETC. MAKE SURE YOU HAVE READ BOOK SIX BEFORE CONTINUING.

SPOILERS BELOW

I've suddenly realised that I haven't explained something that I should. Readers of book 6 will point out the mistake I have made with the Snape family. The truth is, I began this story before book 6 and despite the temptation to do so, I do not plan to write Sileas Snape out of it. I am now justifying his presence by saying, basically, "insert Squibs." Say that the Snape wizarding family ends with Sileas's generation. Assuming that if a Squib marries a Muggle, then the child is a Muggle, it can all be - ahem - explained. Yeah. That's my attempt, anyway.


	14. Experimental Wand

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I offer you TWO chapters to make up for it.

Opal Gimstone - LOL! Oh well, no four year old is meant to have common sense!

Gypz - Aheheheheheh… Okay… You've succeeded in scaring me… But thanks anyway!

TicTacTurtle - Patience, my friend and soon we shall rule… mwah-hah-hah… or not. I'm sorry; I underestimated how long it would take to give Albus magic.

Lameth Mornefea - Thanks very much! But do you really think I'm at liberty to answer that question?

Meowcat00 - Thanks!

Heiress of the Hogwarts Four - Are you really? How very cool… errr, in reply, thanks and as I started this story before HBP, there are some mistakes. But notice I called Septimus just that: the seventh, meaning he has a very large brother allowance. Also, about Abraxas -Jo said Dumbledore was 150 years old. Abraxas could very well be the generation _after _Septimus.

Greenfly - I'm sorry! I got distracted and I beg your forgiveness. As for love of Dumbledore… who doesn't?

Abster - Thanks! But if I told you that, then there would be little point in reading, would there?

Here we go again, happy as can be, all good friends and… erm…anyway-

The very next day, Mother took Albus to Diagon Alley. He watched in excited fascination as Mother, having emerged from a fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, steered him through the crowd and tapped a group of bricks with her wand. Diagon Alley burst into existence and Maria could not help but smile at her son's wonder.

Albus almost forgot what he was there for in walking down the cobbled street lined with shops. He had to be dragged away from Quality Quidditch Supplies, where a brand new broom, the Nightbreeze, sat on a display stand, to the awe of a group of other boys who were talking excitedly about the latest match between the Holyhead Harpies and Puddlemere United. Albus had only ever been vaguely interested in Quidditch but he could tell that the Nightbreeze was a very fine broom indeed and would give any owner of it good cause to be proud. Mother gently reminded him that First Years were not allowed broomsticks and that they had come to Diagon Alley to get Albus's school things.

Mother insisted that the most boring parts (at least, for Albus) were done first, meaning that first stop was at Madam Clam's - where a short, plump woman fitted his Hogwarts school robes. Albus found this extremely tedious but he brightened at Flourish and Blotts, where once again, Mother had to forcibly move him away from a large leather-bound book entitled _Magic of the Ancients: A Study of Egyptian Curses _and a thick tome that was apparently all about Merlin. As a compromise, Albus left the shop not only with a brand new quill and his school books but also the newest edition of _Hogwarts: A History, _which he attempted to read whilst walking along, an activity that almost ended in disaster when he knocked into a large fat man who'd been leaving the shop opposite. Afterwards came the Apothecary where Albus tried to touch all the most disgusting things without anybody noticing.

The most important thing was left till last. It was in silent acknowledgement of how important it was that was indeed left to be the crescendo of the trip and not done immediately. Albus's heart started thumping as they neared Ollivander's, and he wondered if there really was a wand suitable for someone who had almost been a Squib.

The shop was as silent as a grave when they entered and Albus suddenly felt that it would be almost criminal to talk. He inched nervously up to the counter; eyes darting around the dusty shelves piled high with boxes. Magic seemed to hang in the air and make his already wild hair stand on end.

Mr Ollivander appeared so abruptly that Albus jumped back into Mother, causing her to yelp. Mr Ollivander was almost bald, with strands of silvery hair just managing to cling to his scalp, and he had large, bulbous grey eyes that made Albus shiver. He smiled vaguely in their direction and then stepped forward, seeming to almost glide over. He ignored Mother entirely and looked directly at Albus.

"Albus Dumbledore," he whispered in a low, rasping voice. "I've been expecting you."

Albus did not know how to respond to this extraordinary statement, so he said nothing.

"Your father's wand I remember very well. Ten inches. Ash. Quite stiff. A temperamental wand, for a temperamental wizard. And your mother-"

Those large eyes flicked to Mother, who met his gaze reluctantly.

"Eleven inches. Rosewood and unicorn hair," he shot at her. "Very springy. Good for Charms."

Mother nodded, apparently as struck dumb as Albus was. Ollivander's eyes moved back to Albus.

"Well, we will find you a wand, Mr Dumbledore. Indeed, it shall be difficult-"

Albus gulped; did Ollivander know he'd almost been a Squib?

"-but we shall toil onwards, so we shall. All paths must be set upon somewhere, so try with this one - oak and dragon heartstring - eight inches - give it a wave."

Albus took the proffered wand and gave it a wave. He had barely lifted it when Ollivander snatched it back out of his hand, shaking his head.

"No, no - this, perhaps? Yew and phoenix feather - a powerful combination, nine inches, springy-"

Yet no sooner had Albus taken hold of this wand when Ollivander took it back again. So it went on, discarded wands being piled on the counter, until Albus felt as though he'd tried every wand in the shop. He was wondering whether he would ever find one when a deep voice suddenly echoed from the back room.

"Father - will you not try the mongrel wand?"

At that, Ollivander's face contorted, as though thinking of something painful. He turned and aimed his voice at the doorway into the back room and spoke in tones of deep disgust.

"I believe we advertise ourselves as a maker of _quality _wands. We do not want to inflict that monstrosity on any paying customer-"

A young man - or rather, a man who was young in comparison to Mr Ollivander - emerged from the back room. He had the same bulbous eyes as his father and was clutching an elegant-looking pale wand. Albus wondered why it was a monstrosity as the man shook his head, smiling.

"It is not a monstrosity, Father. It is just a very powerful wand."

Ollivander glared at him and then rolled his eyes. "It will never be compatible with _anyone, _nor be anything more than a nicely cut bit of wood."

"I say the boy should try it," protested the younger Ollivander, who seemed even calmer and more ethereal than his father.

The senior Ollivander sighed and then nodded his head slightly. Turning, he addressed Albus, who had been watching the exchange with some curiosity. "Do not feel obligated to try it, Mr Dumbledore - it is my son's… creation…" He paused slightly before the word creation, as though he'd wanted to use the word 'abomination' instead. "It is - uh - a little _experimental _and my advice would be to try a more-"

"No, I'll try it - if you don't mind, sir," Albus said quickly; there was something about this new wand that drew him.

"Very well," said Ollivander resignedly. He took the wand from his son and held it up to the light. For the first time, Albus could see how exceptionally long it was.

"Seventeen inches," said Ollivander quietly, as though he had read Albus's mind. "But as for the wood and the core-" Here he shot a look at his son. "-That is harder to say. I know that hazel and oak were the woods involved in its conception and I believe my son wondered what would happen if he used a phoenix feather, a unicorn hair and-" He stopped and stared at his son, with an expression of confusion and another emotion Albus could not define.

"The hair of a demiguise," filled in the younger man.

"The hair of a demiguise," repeated Ollivander. "Indeed. And has anyone _ever _successfully made a wand with a demiguise hair, Oswald?" he asked pointedly.

"No," said the younger Ollivander unashamedly, not even blinking. "But _I_ have."

The older man frowned slightly. "We shall see," he said darkly and he handed the wand to Albus.

As soon as Albus touched the wand, there was a surge of what felt like fire up his arm. As he raised the wand and brought it down, purple sparks burst from the end of it. He gazed at the tapering point of the pale wand in glee.

Ollivander, for the first time, seemed taken aback. His son, meanwhile, smiled vaguely, as though he'd made the wand with Albus specifically in mind.

Albus was so fond of his new wand that he didn't want to put it away in its box. He clutched at it and held it to his chest when Ollivander offered the box to him. Mother smiled at him and Albus left the shop still admiring his new wand.

"Oh Albus," said Mother softly, beaming down at her son with that glint of pride in her eyes that always made Albus uncomfortable. "A phoenix and a special wand… My son, you shall indeed be a great man."

"Mother," moaned Albus, feeling himself go pink. "I'm not great. I'm just lucky."

Once home, Albus immediately started reading what appeared to be the most interesting of his school books. He read the Defence Against the Dark Arts one first and was rather disappointed by its dry text; he hoped the actual lesson would be more interesting. He also read most of the Transfiguration one and found it so fascinating and engaging to his quick young mind that he was tempted to read all night, until Fawkes accused him of being something called a 'nerd.'

* * *

September the second dawned bright and yet somehow coldly so. When Albus awoke, the butterflies already fluttering in his stomach, the air in his room had a chill to it and the light coming from his window was painful to the eyes. He got up to find that it was only half past six, and that nobody else in the house had yet stirred. 

Unable to go back to sleep, with the excitement buzzing through his blood, he got washed and then dressed in his favourite, purple robes with gold edging, knowing that he would be expected to change on the train. He then began to pace around his room - a habit that was to become a major one in latter days - for about an hour, turning the idea of going to Hogwarts over and over in his head. Father had gone to Durmstrang but Mother had gone to Hogwarts and had been in Hufflepuff. She had refused to answer questions about how it was decided which House one would bee in and had said as little about the Houses as possible, saying that she did not want to bias Albus too much - although she had spoken, at length, in glowing terms of her own House.

This still wasn't much to go on and so all Albus knew about the Houses was their names and so could not hope for one or the other. All that could be hoped for the obvious - that he didn't end up in a House with a load of rotten fools for Housemates.

It seemed years before anyone else stirred, but when Father finally got up, things finally began to move. Albus hardly ate any of his breakfast; his stomach felt as though it had been removed and then used as an ingredient in a particularly complicated potion. Mother smiled encouragingly at him whilst Father told him to present himself well and make the name of Dumbledore one to be respected. Aberforth asked if there were goats at Hogwarts, to which Albus replied that he hoped there weren't.

Then the whole family, with Albus staggering under the weight of his trunk, Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron. Father seemed to want to stop for a drink but, to Albus's intense relief, Mother told him that they would be late if they lingered and so Father cast a Disillusionment spell on all of them before they exited into the Muggle street outside.

It was during the difficult journey (for, as the Muggles couldn't see them, the Dumbledores were forced to manoeuvre around people carefully and twice, Albus accidentally hit some very surprised Muggles with his trunk) that Albus saw his first Muggles. He stared at them with interest, and the pity of the magical for the mundane.

The Muggle's clothing seemed frankly bizarre to Albus's eyes. The women wore things which could be construed as robes but the men seemed to feel the need to wear a separate garment for every part of their bodies, with bits of material pinched around their crotches. It reminded Albus vaguely of the clothes Lightning wore and the only thing that seemed the same were the crisp, white, stiff shirt collars - a discomfort that Albus had to share as Hogwarts demanded (in what Albus saw as rather unreasonable tones) that a white undershirt be worn underneath the robes, so that just the collar overlapped.

All thoughts of Muggles and how odd it would never be to never be able to do magic were abandoned at the sight of King's Cross Station. They stopped in the space between platforms nine and ten, but Albus couldn't see the Hogwarts Express anywhere. Seeing Father lean casually against the Muggle ticket barrier as if there was no hurry at all made Albus wonder if everyone had forgotten where they were going.

"Father-" he began desperately.

"Copy me, Albus," ordered Father and, confusedly, Albus leant against the ticket barrier.

The next moment, he fallen sideways through it and Father had taken the Disillusionment Charm off. Albus gasped - all around him, young witches and wizards dashed around to the sound of owls hooting, whilst the huge scarlet Hogwarts Express loomed behind them.

Mother glanced at the clock over Platform Nine and Three Quarters and sighed. "You'd best be getting on, Albus, there's very little time until it leaves."

"I-" said Albus and then, quite unexpectedly, a lump came into his throat. He had never been away from his family before and he wouldn't see them for several months.

Mother seemed to know what he was feeling and hugged him tightly. Squashed against her, Albus guilty savoured her motherly warmth; the warmth that subconsciously recalled the dark security of the womb. Knowing he was being immature did not lessen the sensation.

"You do us proud," she said. "Enjoy yourself."

Once she'd let go, Albus was astonished to find Father patting him on the shoulder. Ulfin so rarely displayed affection towards his eldest son that Albus hardly knew how to respond.

"Choose your chums carefully - I wouldn't want to hear that you'd been consorting with mudbloods, young man." Albus nodded obediently, although privately thinking that he didn't care very much. "And, as your mother said, enjoy yourself."

"Thank you, Father," said Albus solemnly.

He glanced, with some vague pang in his chest, at Aberforth. His younger brother was not half so sentimental and simply waved, before saying that he was bored and wanted to go home.

Albus took one last look at his family before heaving his heavy trunk and climbing into the nearest carriage, speculating as to whether Fawkes, who'd flown on ahead, was already at Hogwarts. H pushed past other young witches and wizards, muttering "excuse me" every now and then as he went down the compartments, searching for a seat.

He finally found a carriage that was half empty and stowed his luggage in the rack before starting towards an empty group of seats by a window. On the other side of the compartment sat a group of other boys but, not wanting to intrude, and feeling almost ill at the idea of meeting new people, he strode straight past them. He sensed their eyes on him and felt himself flush slightly under the weight of his own personality. He was just about to sit down, when one of the other boys called out to him.

"Hello! Say, why are you going over there? Why not sit with us?"

Albus turned around nervously. "Uh - r-right-" he stammered, wishing the stranger had not spoken.

One of the boys patted the empty seat next to him and Albus staggered over to it, feeling ungainly and somehow out-of-place already. He sat down in it as the other boys looked curiously at him.


	15. Us And Them

**A/N: Another one for you!**

Albus stared around to find that most of the faces seemed friendly, and felt somewhat relieved, although every muscle in his body was still thrumming with tension. The boys were First Years like himself and it was comforting to see that they were glancing around nervously as he was.

The boy who'd called out to him smiled. It was only then that Albus looked at him properly and grasped the alarming likeness. He took a sharp inward-breath as he took the boy in, gaping at the familiar, untidy black hair which was short in the same, rather unfashionable style, the same thin face and the almost identical round spectacles.

"Lightning!" he exclaimed, wondering how on earth Lightning was able to be seen by the other boys and whether he'd been secretly as substantial as himself the whole time.

The other boy frowned in puzzlement.

"What?" he said, and Albus realised that the eyes behind the spectacles were brown, not green and that there was no jagged scar on the pale forehead. Albus narrowed his eyes and gazed in disbelief - but for those details, this boy was exactly like Lightning.

"I apologise," he said quickly, fearing that he'd already made a mess of the valuable first impression and that these new boys now thought him rather strange. "You look like someone I know."

"Oh," said the boy, beaming once more. "Well - anyway - my name is Frederick Potter and you..?"

"Albus Dumbledore," said Albus hastily, shaking Frederick's hand and looking nervously around at the other boys.

There was a freckle-faced red-head, who was almost as tall as Albus, although his hair was a good deal shorter and tamer. He introduced himself as being Liberius Weasley and seemed so irrepressibly cheerful in the company of boys whom he could not have know for more than a few minutes that Albus couldn't help but feel slightly jealous. Liberius was naturally at ease with others; Albus was not.

After Liberius, a small thin boy with long wispy blond hair and overly large eyes introduced himself as Neptune Lovegood. His voice was very whispery and his face was somewhat dreamy but Albus couldn't help but like him instinctively.

Then there was the round-faced, stammering William Longbottom, who squeezed Albus's hand so tightly when he shook it (presumably out of anxiety) that Albus's circulation was nearly cut off - and the serious-faced, almost studious-looking Matthias Moody, who did not smile when Albus shook his hand.

"First Year as well?" Liberius said and Albus nodded.

"Oh - do _you _know how we're sorted into the Houses?" asked Frederick, evidently continuing a discussion that had been going before Albus's arrival. "There seems to be quite some mystery about it."

"No, I don't," replied Albus, shaking his head. "I thought perhaps one of _you _would."

"This idiot," said Frederick, nudging William gently, "thinks we'll have to fight a dragon or something."

"They wouldn't make First Years do that, would they?" said Albus desperately, consciously knowing that it was a silly idea but sincerely hoping that it would be nothing as awful.

"Don't be a fool," said Matthias gruffly. "It'll be something simple; something we can all do."

"By Merlin," said Frederick, his voice betraying his worry, "I hope so. I only got my wand yesterday but I know I'm going to be hopeless at everything."

Frederick seemed to have voiced Albus's own fears and, from the expressions on all the surrounding faces, his words seemed to have struck a chord in the others too. William looked even more nervous.

"N-Nobody shall b-be as hopeless as I," he stammered sadly. "I can't even fly a b-broom straight."

"Hang on," exclaimed Liberius suddenly. "Your name's Longbottom. Wasn't your father Keeper for Puddlemere United until recently?"

William nodded and Frederick let out a long, low whistle. The others all looked impressed. Albus wished he'd been more interested in Quidditch; he had nothing to say on the matter.

"I say," admitted Matthias quietly. "Your father is rather splendid on a broom."

"Oh, I know he is," said William miserably. "Makes it look a whole sight worse when you see how terribly I fly."

"_I _haven't even been on a broom!" said Liberius enviously. "My father's a Healer and he goes on about how dangerous it is-"

"What's your father?" Matthias asked Albus but before he could answer, Neptune broke in dreamily.

"I would never get on a broom," he said vaguely. "Because of the Bowtruckle Conspiracy."

There was a silence. Albus felt his brow crease in confusion: he remembered what Bowtruckles were from his books and he didn't see how they could possibly form a conspiracy. Liberius's lips were twitching, Matthias's eyes had rolled heavenward, William looked even more nervous and Fredrick seemed completely at sea.

"But Bowtruckles…" said Albus tentatively. "Aren't they tree-guardians? How-"

"They're angry because of all the wand wood that's been taken from them," Neptune whispered. "They've disguised themselves as brooms but one day, they'll attack and eat their riders alive."

There was another silence, more disbelieving in tone, in which everyone unanimously decided to ignore this. Matthias repeated his question to Albus.

"He's Senior Undersecretary to the Minister," said Albus.

Matthias's eyebrows shot upwards and, for a moment, his frizzy brown hair seemed to bush outwards. William looked impressed, Liberius frowned vaguely as though trying to remember something, Neptune hummed 'Silent Night' under his breath and Frederick's eyes widened.

"Ah - yes - hasn't he made statements in the paper and that sort of thing?" asked Liberius, still frowning. "Well, the dosh must be rolling in for you, then."

"Um-" said Albus, unsure as to how to respond to this.

"But you don't look like one of those-" began Frederick but he was interrupted and, later on, Albus wondered what he'd been about to say.

Another boy had rushed into the compartment, slamming the door behind him, looking somewhat dishevelled and with a large bruise forming on his cheek. He was thin with moderately light brown hair and wearing what were obviously second-hand robes.

Albus's heart gave a thump of recognition. A dim memory of a boy rose up in his mind. He looked up as the boy turned around and they gazed into each other's eyes for a minute.

The boy's eyebrows came together. "Have I seen you before?" he asked Albus. "Your face seems familiar to me."

"I think we used to play together," said Albus slowly. "Would, by any chance, your name be Samuel Lupin?"

The boy nodded vigorously. "Yes, it is. Is your name Albus Dumbledore?"

Albus nodded too and the pair smiled at each other, memories drifting in the air between them. Then Samuel spotted the other boys and his face fell. He looked down and shuffled his feet.

"It's all right," he said to Albus's new acquaintances, who were eyeing him with curiosity. "I'll be going. It's all right; I know." His look and tone said that it was anything but all right.

"What's the matter?" asked Frederick, looking quite sorry for the battered Samuel.

Samuel shuffled some more, shame seeming to emanate outwards from him. "It's all right," he repeated. "G-Gaunt made it clear to me."

"Made what clear?" barked Matthias.

"Who's Gaunt?" enquired Liberius.

"One of the Prefects," said Neptune airily. "He wasn't too pleasant to me."

"It's all right," said Samuel again, gruffly. "I'm a… a filthy mudblood." His voice broke. "I won't - I'll go."

He turned to leave but three voices immediately vied with each other in outburst. Ignoring William's horrified look and Liberius's raised eyebrows, Albus grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back.

"Father beat me for playing with you," he said fiercely, surprised by how strongly he felt about it all. "But I don't care!"

"Hear, hear!" said Matthias loudly. "Anybody who follows mad ideas like that is an idiot."

"If I'm a mudblood," said Neptune quietly, "then I'm the muddiest of the lot. I'm Muggle-born and Gaunt was beastly to me too."

"I say you should not listen to this Gaunt," Frederick offered. "I think 'mudblood' is a horrible word."

"My only concern about blood," Albus assured Samuel, who was smiling now and looking extremely relieved, "is that it stays inside of me and doesn't spill out all over the place." With that, Albus finally decided that he sincerely did not care about blood at all - Samuel seemed a good sort, as did Neptune (even if he was a little odd) and so Father had been wrong about all mudbloods being evil: the proof of his error was right in front of him. As for Father himself, what he didn't know couldn't hurt him.

Samuel grinned more widely, but out of the corner of his eyes, Albus caught Matthias looking at him with an expression of deep suspicion. He had no time to ponder this, however, as William gave an audible gulp and Liberius was casting a wary look at Neptune.

"You're… Muggle-born?" he repeated to Neptune, in an odd voice. Albus whipped his head around, Frederick and Matthias looked from Neptune to Liberius and back again and Samuel's grin faded.

"Yes," said Neptune just as dreamily as ever, but his expression was a little less dreamy than it had been; the vague smile slightly fixed.

"That's not allowed," said Liberius slowly. "You can't - Muggle-borns aren't allowed."

The repetition and Liberius's expression made Albus uneasy. He glanced to his right to see Frederick looking indignant, and the sight steadied him. He looked back at Liberius.

"No," agreed Neptune. "My father lied and said he was a wizard, so I could get in." He paused. "Are you going to tell someone?"

Liberius shrugged and then shook his head, fidgeting in his seat. All eyes were on him now and all traces of envy that Albus had felt of him vanished.

"I - don't like - mudbloods," said Liberius in a tight voice. Samuel took a step backwards, Neptune gazed at Liberius with an oddly dispassionate expression and Matthias's face hardened.

"So you hate them too," he stated softly and Albus felt his heart sink in disappointment. He had liked Liberius for his smiling face but if Liberius hated Samuel then friendship was out of the question…

"No!" Liberius burst out, as Matthias looked more and more contemptuous. "I don't - I don't _hate _them! I just - I don't know…" His voice grew quieter. "I'm just - just _nervous_ of them, I suppose," he ended pathetically.

"'Nervous?' What is there to be nervous of?" demanded Matthias, his eyes glittering. "They're not poisonous beasts."

"They're just like us," said Albus firmly but, to his surprise, Samuel's face twitched.

"'They're just like us,'" he repeated sadly. "'Us.' _Them. _Us and them. The same but different. You - and me."

For a moment, Albus didn't understand, but then he realised what he'd implied. He felt an icy shaft of horror go through him at Samuel's face and he opened his mouth to try and mend things when again the compartment door swung open to reveal three more boys, two of whom were very large.

It had been three years, but Albus recognised them immediately. Septimus Malfoy, white blond hair as impeccable and robes as impressive as ever, stood in the doorway flanked by Magnus Bulstrode and Fitzwilliam Crabbe. Just as he'd been when Albus had last seen him, he was clutching a silver-topped cane. Albus thought he looked rather stupid with it, as nobody else had one and it served no purpose. Bulstrode was as large as ever and Crabbe still wore the same look of perpetual bewilderment.

Septimus's eyes locked with Albus's and once again, a memory surfaced in Albus's mind - a rather less pleasant one. Septimus seemed unaware of this and he strode forward, smiling, hand extended.

"Cousin Dumbledore," he drawled. "How very good to see you again. And Bulstrode and Crabbe are here too - what a nice little reunion."

Again, Albus saw Matthias's face settle into a look of suspicion, directed at himself before the boy turned and looked at Malfoy, face hardening into pure contempt, mingled with the same suspicion. Albus was just about to ignore this and reluctantly shake Malfoy's hand out of sheer courtesy when Malfoy's eyes went past him onto Samuel.

"Great Merlin, Dumbledore!" spat Malfoy in disgust. "What are you doing gallivanting with the likes of that mudblood scum Lupin! I would have thought a cousin of mine had better taste!"

Matthias scowled and Samuel's face twitched again and he shrank away from Malfoy - and, suddenly, Albus felt extremely angry. He snatched his hand away from Malfoy's just as it was about to close on his.

"I would rather you did not insult my friends," he said coldly.

Malfoy's eyes widened in outrage, whilst Samuel shot Albus a grateful look. Matthias frowned, eyes narrowed and Liberius looked very awkward. William stared from Malfoy back to Albus seemingly terrified, Neptune smiled faintly and Frederick glared at Malfoy.

"'Friend?'" repeated Malfoy, apparently shocked out of decorum. "You call this - _muck_ - your friend?" He gazed at Samuel in revulsion. "Dumbledore, you are a dolt to-"

"Go hang yourself, Malfoy," snapped Frederick, evidently seeming to know Septimus as well. "Nobody wanted your opinion."

Malfoy cast a look at him. "Oh, you - you're the sot I met in Diagon Alley, aren't you? You're a disgrace, Potter. And so are all the other purebloods here who choose to spend time with dirty little Lupin."

Liberius shivered but Albus ignored him. Matthias shot the former a cold look and William shook like a leaf.

"You should go," said Albus softly, his voice coming out remarkably calmly, although, in truth, he was afraid of how this confrontation might end. "Someone - probably me - will shove that cane of yours somewhere where it'll hurt if you don't."

Malfoy took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly, as though trying to control himself. Then he opened his eyes and spoke in tones that were forced just above freezing point.

"I will forgive you that, cousin," he said stiffly. "For blood is thicker than water. One last chance - come with me and we can forget this whole sorry affair."

"If I should have an affair, Malfoy, it would certainly not be with you."

Frederick let out a snort of laughter. Malfoy practically snarled at him.

"Still got that imaginary phoenix, Dumbledore?" he taunted with some success - Albus's cheeks burned. "I can say, with full confidence, that _I've _never had to make anything up in some pathetic attempt to impress others."

"What's the cane for, then?" Matthias growled loudly.

"You nitwit!" snarled Malfoy. "The cane _exists."_

"Alas," said Albus, more to himself than to anyone else. "It is a sour fact that Malfoy exists - nevertheless, I shall attempt to dream him out of existence."

Frederick burst out laughing, as did Samuel. William looked shocked by Albus's boldness and Matthias seemed to be struggling with his face, apparently suppressing a smile. Even Liberius, although his face still displayed some awkwardness, seemed amused. Malfoy was livid.

"You'll regret this," he spat, as he turned to leave, his two bodyguards mindlessly following him.

"Actually, I don't think I will," said Albus quite honestly.

Malfoy left and Frederick slapped Albus on the back.

"Albus, you _are _a brick!" he exclaimed. "That was splendid. Oh, here comes the witch with the trolley!"

The boys brought sweets off the trolley, all issues about blood forgotten in the light of sugar. As Liberius queued up beside the others, he gave Samuel a tentative suggestion of a smile. Samuel looked uncertainly at him and Albus, watching, understood: Liberius was trying to see things from a different point of view. It was an encouraging sign and Albus allowed himself to become dazed at the sight of so much confectionary. He bought such a large amount to satisfy his sweet tooth that William claimed he would be sick. Samuel shuffled his feet and said that he couldn't afford any, with the result that both Frederick and Albus insisted on pitching in for him, so he ended up with altogether more sweets than he could eat.

Eventually the time came to change, which they all did in silence, having remembered their previous trepidations. The train finally ground to a halt and the boys stepped outside into a dark, cold night.

A/N: Next, the Sorting!


	16. The Sorting

**A/N: Thank you reviewers! Sorry for the delay; starting sixth form was a bit hectic for me. I'm afraid updates from now on may be further apart due to annoying things like homework (waaahhh!). **

**Greenfly - Ugh! What an awful typo, I'm sorry! I'll fix it as I upload this. Sorry for the confusion, I'm providing a list below to help people keep track. As for the no girls - well, I think at eleven years old, most genders seem to stick together. But don't worry, there WILL be some girls! How Albus go through 7 years of schooling without meeting any?**

**Dark Angel's Blue Fire - Thanks! Hope you're still reading. **

**Mthukral - Thanks! Especially for the writing skills part, as I would very much like to be a real author. **

**Lameth Mornefea - Thanks! And don't worry, it was meant to parallel it. Notice that Frederick and Malfoy met first in Diagon Alley - just like Harry and Draco! But I don't intend to make the whole story a parallel. **

**AJ Wonkette - Thanks for the review! And you WILL be seeing more of that wand...**

**starlitjewel - Thanks! And yes, Malfoy will eventually meet Fawkes...**

**TicTacTurtle - I hope so too. Albus has really only just grasped the mudblood-pureblood debate properly. **

**OKAY, BECAUSE THERE WAS SOME CONFUSION LAST CHAPTER, HERE IS A LIST OF VARIOUS PEOPLE:**

**Matthias Moody - Half-Blood...Frederick Potter - Pureblood...William Longbottom - Pureblood**

**Samuel Lupin - Half-Blood...Liberius Weasley - Pureblood...Neptune Lovegood - Muggleborn**

**ONE LAST NOTE: Something I forgot to explain earlier. As a tendency, the further you go back in the past, the stricter all rules get. In Harry's time, 'mudblood' refers to Muggleborns - in the past, I imagine they would have been more picky about it. Hence 'mudblood' also refers to Half-Bloods. Hope that clears up any confusion over Samuel's parentage. **

**

* * *

**  
Everything was all dark and confused, and, for a moment, Albus thought that he'd be lost forever in a sea of heaving bodies, hooting owls and confused first years. Then a gruff voice started calling out, and so gave a point of distinction in the chill night. Albus made his way towards that distant sound as best he could, in an odd parody of life.

"First years!" the gruff voice was calling. As he neared the voice's source, Albus could see that it came from a surprisingly small, weedy-looking man who seemed rather bored and irritated by the whole thing. He was holding a small lamp in which a candle flickered, which did nothing against the pitch black around him.

"Follow me!" he was crying and he moved away unexpectedly, meaning that Albus had to quicken his pace to keep up. He found himself struggling along beside Frederick, whose thin face was screwed up in determination. This sight once again made Albus think of Lightning and puzzle over how much Frederick looked like him. Perhaps Lightning - or Frederick - was playing a game with him, and had Charmed his eyes brown and somehow hidden his scar…

The first years found themselves at the edge of an enormous lake, which was, if possible, even darker than the pitch of the night. The only sign that it was indeed water and not some hole leading down to oblivion was the very slight pin-pricks of light cast upon the liquid by the stars overhead. Small, unsafe-looking boats sat on the surface.

"Four to a boat!" the gruff man commanded.

Frederick grinned at Albus and grabbed his arm, steering him towards the nearest boat. Albus gave Frederick a small, shy smile of liking as they climbed in. To Albus's surprise, Matthias made his way towards their boat very deliberately, although he frowned slightly at Albus as he got in.

Next to them, a similar boat was being rocked as William stumbled into it, being helped by Liberius and Neptune. Albus glimpsed Samuel and waved at him, but Neptune had already absent-mindedly pulled Samuel into his boat as well. Instead, an unknown girl climbed in, giving the boys a wary look, as though she'd been forced into joining them.

The boats set off automatically, skimming lightly across the lake. Albus wanted to talk to Frederick but he felt rather cowed by the way Matthias kept glancing at him suspiciously, as though expecting him to deliberately upend the boat, and Frederick seemed rather unnerved by the icy green gaze of the girl, whom alone among the first years didn't look even the tiniest bit nervous. Her green eyes were shielded by square spectacles and her long black hair was as dark as the lake below.

However, the uneasy silence between them was broken when the boats rounded a corner and they got their first look at Hogwarts. Albus's gasp was not the only one that echoed over the water - Hogwarts was a splendid sight, the vast towers and battlements lit brilliantly against the dark sky, so that - just for a second - the whole thing seemed as beautiful and strange as an optical illusion.

Frederick turned a gleeful, excited face towards Albus. Albus beamed back and the pair were momentarily united in a surge of pure anticipation. Matthias's eyes flickered and his serious face suddenly split into a smile and the girl raised her eyebrows, apparently impressed.

The small man halted the boats at some stone steps, which they ascended in a nervous rush, before entering a dim Entrance Hall and then being left in a small room of the side of this. To Albus, the journey seemed to take nothing more than a few brief seconds, taking place in flashes of movement before the scene switched.

The first years whispered and shifted their feet nervously and people seemed to naturally gravitate together in clumps. Albus, Frederick and Matthias found themselves close to William, Samuel and Liberius, whilst Neptune hummed dreamily nearby. There was a sudden shout when several ghosts materialised through the walls. Albus stared at the pale figures with interest, but he didn't have much time to look at them as a real, living person entered the room.

It was a small, frail-looking witch, with large soulful brown eyes and long flaxen hair that was inexpertly braided. The paleness of her skin was emphasised by the pitch black teacher's robes she wore. It was, however, her hat that held Albus's eyes. It was the strangest thing he'd ever seen. It looked like an ordinary black witch's hat that someone had thought to hang a tassel off the top of and then curl over the said tip so that it looked like the cloth representation of an ammonite.

Albus looked away slightly to see that Frederick, too, was transfixed by the hat. They were still gazing at it when the witch began to speak.

"My name is Professor McKinnon, and I am Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts as well as being Herbology teacher and Head of Hufflepuff." Her voice was low and hard to hear, and nothing she said sounded as though she was very certain of it. "At Hogwarts, you will be Sorted into four houses, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Each House has its own Common Room and dormitories. Good behaviour will be rewarded with House points and the bad will be punished with a deduction." Here, Albus noticed, she looked almost as nervous as the first years at the thought of punishment. "Follow me and you will be Sorted into your Houses."

The first years followed her through a small door into what could only be the Great Hall. Albus's mouth fell open. The Great Hall was massive and so brightly lit that it hurt Albus's eyes after the dark outside. The four House tables were crammed with chattering students and as he and the other First Years entered, Albus shivered as he felt the weight of many pairs of eyes pass over them. The now pale and silent first years passed around the long High Table. Albus looked distractedly up at the teachers, to find most of them dour-faced and solemn, in black, and all wearing the same strange hats as Professor McKinnon, although the wizard's hats were brimless. Albus's eyes found the Headmaster, who sat in the golden chair at the centre of the High Table. Above the hard, sharp face and resting on the grizzled, dirty-looking grey hair, sat the most bizarre hat that Albus had seen since entering the school.

Perhaps it was just a combination of nerves and excitement, but Albus had to shove his fist in his mouth to keep from collapsing into laughter as Professor Lestrange stood up and waved a hand for silence - which came immediately and was absolute. The hat that sat on top of Professor Lestrange's head was black, like the others, but stretched upwards not to a point but to a sudden square, a platform of stiff black material, from which hung no less than five tassels. Each tassel ended in a bead of a House colour, with the exception of one, which ended in a large silver star. It was such an odd sight that Albus quivered with silent giggles, until Frederick began to look at him in some alarm.

"Let the Sorting begin," said Lestrange simply, in his harsh, cracked old voice.

Albus suddenly noticed that a stool stood in front of where they all stood, on top of which sat the most battered and tattered hat imaginable. All of the first years stared at it with a good deal of bewilderment. Albus blinked and wondered if everybody at Hogwarts was obsessed with hats. Matthias eyed it warily, whilst William looked terrified.

Then the rip at the brim opened and the hat began to sing. Since none of the Professors nor any of the older students looked surprised, Albus assumed this was normal, although privately he felt that if someone had told him beforehand that the Sorting Ceremony involved a singing hat, he would have been doubtful of that person's sanity.

"Long ago when the founders four stood tall,

And Gryffindor and Slytherin were side by side,

I was put into this school

To quarter you and to decide!

Set me on your head

And I'll tell you where to sit

And find you a House

In which you will surely fit!

Perhaps you'll be in Gryffindor

With courage in your core

And daring in your heart-

Too feisty to ignore!

Or mayhap Ravenclaw your home

With knowledge as your strength

And a quick mind to hone

That's never still for any length!

Could loyal Hufflepuff be your place

With a heart that's always kind?

Slow and steady wins the race-

For caring you're designed!

Or could you be in Slytherin sly

With cunning as your friend

And on your way with ambitions high

With a will that will not bend?

So put me on and let me choose

Where you should rightfully be-

Don't be afraid, you cannot lose-

Come on now, let's see!"

Once the hat had finished, the students and most of the teachers burst into applause. Albus, however, spotted that Lestrange's hands remained quite still and that he had a look of distaste on his face as he looked at the hat. Professor McKinnon, meanwhile, began reading from a list of names. Albus's stomach clenched with shocking remembrance.

"Avery, Juliet!"

A girl with shining golden hair coiled ridiculously on top of her head pranced forward. Albus dimly remembered her and how overdone she'd been when he'd met cousin Malfoy and gone to the Illusionartum, but he could not help feeling sorry for her; she was extremely pale as she put the hat on.

"SLYTHERIN!" screamed the hat.

Juliet smiled prettily as one of the tables erupted in applause. She set the hat down and took her seat at the table. As she did, Albus thought of what the hat had sung. He had no idea where he belonged.

Thinking guiltily of how disloyal he had been to his father, he dismissed Hufflepuff quickly from his mind. He was scared stiff of it all, so Gryffindor definitely wasn't an option. He didn't know what his ambition was and he certainly didn't feel cunning or quick-witted; Slytherin wasn't for him either. Ravenclaw… He thought he had a chance there; he liked reading - did that count?

"Bulstrode, Magnus!"

The large boy sloped forward. The hat took longer in deciding with him, but he eventually ended up in Slytherin too, as did Fitzwilliam Crabbe. As the list descended down the Cs, Albus grew more and more nervous. He felt as though he'd somehow bought the cold Autumn air in with him and that it was hanging around him like a bubble. His heart rose up into his mouth.

By the time the Ds were started, he was feeling quite sick. Then, all too quickly-

"Dumbledore, Albus!"

He staggered forward, seeing Frederick's grin of encouragement but his face too stiff to respond, and sat on the hard stool before ramming the hat on his head. Somehow, it was although he ceased to exist properly and that all there was was sensation and sound… He could feel the ridged surface of the wood of the stool and the rough weave of the hat as though they were part of him. The hat fell down over his eyes so that he was spared the sight of hundreds of students staring at him. All he could see was blackness - and he couldn't help wondering whether that was somehow representative of his future - just a huge blankness…Then a voice began speaking in his ear.

His first instinct was to rip the hat off and fling it on the floor. Instead, he gripped the edges of the stool so tightly that his knuckles cracked and listened.

"Hmm," mused the hat. "What a quick mind, indeed! And you think you belong in Ravenclaw, eh? Well, certainly you seem it on the surface…"

The hat made another noise of pondering fascination.

"And there's loyalty there - oh yes - and yes, cunning! A mind for plotting with, yes indeed… but ambition centred only in others…"

_Please sir, _Albus thought. _I don't feel very cunning._

"You don't feel it, no? Well, trust me young Dumbledore, you are. Hmm… where shall I put you?"

There was a pause.

"Ah!" the hat cried softly. "Bravery! Determination! But-"

There was another, agonisingly long pause. Then the hat spoke in tones of unmistakeable bewilderment.

"But you could do well in any House! Loyalty and cleverness and bravery and cunning… Where am I to put you?"

Albus became aware that he'd been sitting on the stool for a whole five minutes; he could hear the sounds of people whispering and moving impatiently… He bit his lip and waited.

"Well, I don't think I've ever found it so hard to Sort a student," admitted the hat.

_Are you looking into my mind? _asked Albus hesitantly, feeling ill at the idea.

"Yes, I am, young Dumbledore - and what a picture I am finding!"

Albus had no idea whether this was a good thing or a bad thing and bit his lip harder.

"Right," said the hat suddenly, decisively. "There's the answer - at the core of you. You have the wind of change blowing through your soul, young Dumbledore. And the bravery's driving it. There's only one House for such revolutionaries and idealists. Best be… GRYFFINDOR!"

One of the tables roared with excitement and pent-up suspense. Albus took off the hat to see the whole school staring at him. He set the hat down, feeling light-headed, and went to sit over at the Gryffindor table, to sit down next to a friendly-faced third year. Albus gazed at the hat dreamily as someone else picked it up. He couldn't believe it. How could he, a quiet bookworm, be at home in a House renowned for bravery and recklessness? It didn't seem possible.

He watched as the other first years were Sorted. William sat on the stool for a minute before being sent to Gryffindor and Neptune seemed completely unconcerned as he was Sorted into Ravenclaw. To Albus's delight, no sooner had Samuel sat down than he was put into Gryffindor - meaning that the pair of them grinned happily at each other before turning to watch the others being given their places. Matthias fidgeted on the stool before being made a Gryffindor and he sat down next to Albus looking pleased - although Albus still caught him glancing at him in apparent distrust.

Septimus Malfoy swaggered forward to be placed instantly in Slytherin, making Albus glad that he hadn't been put there, as was Priscilla Nott after a two minute-long wait. He then sat and hoped desperately for Frederick to be placed in Gryffindor - which he was and he squeezed next to Albus with a flushed face. Liberius Weasley, after some consideration, was also placed in Gryffindor and Albus found himself grinning at how many of his new friends had been Sorted into the same House. Once the Sorting was over and the hat taken away, Professor Lestrange stood up.

"First years - welcome to Hogwarts," he rasped in a rather unwelcoming way. "Old students, welcome back. Now, I think we all need to be reminded of the rules. No student is to be found out of bed after nine o'clock. No student is to be caught using any of Mr Zonko's thoroughly unamusing products. No student is to…"

Albus soon found his head buzzing with rules and regulations. Frederick's grin faded as he listened and Matthias was more solemn than ever. Liberius kept smiling, as thought he thought it was a joke - and then realised it wasn't, with an expression of horror. All the jubilation of the Sorting seemed utterly crushed under Lestrange's words.

"As a school, it is our duty to encourage intellectual growth. It is also our duty to guide students to the land of Morality." Albus noticed that Lestrange had a cane and was tapping the floor with it, punctuating every syllable with a quiet _bap. _"Now, this land is one which students seem to… _struggle _finding. This school is here to halt the descent into Depravity that so many these days succumb to. As a school, we must weed out the weak and help the strong. We must…"

Albus found himself getting very bored with Lestrange's speech. It seemed to go on and on, and the painful ache of hunger in his stomach was growing. Next to him, Frederick's tummy gave an audible rumble. The older students had a slightly glazed look about them, as though they'd heard all about the land of Morality and the regions of Depravity before. Albus attempted to listen but he found what he understood of the speech to leave a somewhat bitter taste in his mouth.

Eventually, Lestrange sat down and clapped - food appeared on the plates and several students stared at it as if they'd forgotten what it was for. Albus started bolting the roast beef down whilst Liberius attacked his potatoes with the ferocity of a bear.

"I'm rather confused," said Frederick through a mouthful of pasty. "I always thought that the regions of Depravity had something to do with using the toilet."

The third year near Albus choked on his pumpkin juice at that, but Albus himself was too ravenous to reply. He helped himself to several sugar-laden cakes just as the third year swallowed his juice and spoke.

"Quite! We've visited the land of Morality with Lestrange so many times that it's a wonder we're not all saints!"

Next to Albus, Samuel was talking to Liberius about the Sorting. Albus listened in.

"I was nearly put in Hufflepuff, you know! I don't suppose that would be too bad-"

"My whole family are in Gryffindor," said Liberius past some trifle. "It would have been awful if I hadn't been one too."

"I was nearly put in Slytherin!" complained Matthias. "As if I'd shared a dormitory with that Malfoy scum!"

"Don't go spreading that around, for Merlin's sake," advised Liberius. "I've heard that the House rivalries are pretty thick."

"The hat couldn't make up its mind with me," contributed Albus tentatively, still feeling rather shy.

"I know!" exclaimed Frederick. "I thought we'd all be as old as Lestrange by the time you took it off!"

Eventually the meal ended and Lestrange rose to his feet again. Albus hoped he wasn't going to make another speech; he was feeling quite sleepy.

"We have heard the Sorting Hat expound to us the virtues of each House," he rasped. "But let us not forget the vices." He then looked pointedly towards Gryffindor table.

Albus and the other first years were quite shocked when all the other Gryffindors broke into a dull chant. "Recklessness, stupidity, disobedience," they recited tonelessly.

Lestrange then gazed at the Ravenclaw table where they also chanted the apparent faults of their House. "Laziness, coldness, disrespect," they intoned sadly.

"Foolishness, carelessness, disinterest," the Hufflepuffs said dully.

Last of all, Lestrange looked towards the Slytherin table. "Disloyalty," they said and Albus was struck by how the Slytherin House seemed to have only one fault.

Lestrange then dismissed them for bed. Albus and his friends followed the Gryffindors up impressive flights of moving steps and along decorated corridors. Albus was still thinking of how odd it was to make the Houses chant their vices before bedtime and several times he nearly walked into the suits of armour randomly dotted around. They arrived in front of a picture of a beautiful young lady, who smiled at them and asked for a password. The Gryffindor Prefect - a tall, slim, elegant-looking boy - spoke it and they entered into a cosy-looking Common Room. Albus was too tired to take it in properly and so simply followed the other first years up to their dormitory, where he tumbled into the massive four-poster with his trunk in front of it. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.


End file.
